Strange Beginnings
by jl4223
Summary: Stephen Strange takes on his first pupil, a woman whose mysterious past and true identity will have consequences that ripple across dimensions (Dr. Strange-Clea origin story with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. tie-in; Rated T for later chapters.).
1. Prologue- Then

**THEN**

Joanna Lucas was having an terrible day despite the fact that she was on vacation. The sweltering humidity seeping down from the Manhattan sky only added to her misery. The air felt as stifling as the cloud of control hovering over her marriage. She glanced up at her husband walking a step ahead of her, then shifted her eyes downward again before he could meet her gaze.

To think she'd been looking forward to this trip to New York City with her family... She almost laughed out loud at her idiocy.

"Mama?"

At that one sweet word, Joanna felt life return to her body. She looked down at her beautiful four year-old daughter. Sophie was her only child, and the true love of her life. Joanna grinned down at her.

"What would you like to do today, Sophie?" Joanna asked. "We have a whole new day to explore, little pirate. New adventures to be had!"

Sophie giggled. She loved being called a pirate. No princesses for her. She tried to swing from her mother's hand but failed.

She reached for her father. "Daddy, hold my other hand!"

Paul Lucas, who'd been strolling ahead of the pair, glanced back over his shoulder. His sour look caused Joanna to lose her smile.

Joanna shortened her steps with Sophie in tow, and allowed her husband to trudge ahead. She couldn't believe she and Paul were about to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary together. Five years… Had it been that long? It felt like five hundred. There were times, like today, when she wondered why she didn't just ask him for a divorce. He was always angry, always sullen. At least he'd never been violent. But if this was wedded bliss, she was better off being a single mom.

There was Sophie to think of, though, and Sophie adored her daddy. And so, she stayed. There was no doubt that Paul loved Sophie. He loved them both, Joanna told herself. He really did. He just didn't know how to show it.

Paul stayed ahead of them as they made their way down the sidewalk toward the Empire State Building, Item Number One on Paul Lucas's daily agenda.

"Daddy?" Sophie called out. "Can we go back to the wax museum? Please?"

"No," he barked.

Joanna fought back a smile at her husband's expense. He'd hated waiting in line at Madame Tussaud's, hated the way Joanna and Sophie had enjoyed taking selfies of the different wax sculptures of celebrities.

It didn't matter to Joanna whether they went up to the top of the Empire State Building or not. She was content just holding her daughter's hand as she took in the energy of Manhattan. The larger-than-life buildings, the sounds of cars rushing past, the eclectic pedestrians roaming the sidewalks alongside of her… all of them seemed to call out to her that this was where she belonged. The city felt so alive, its undercurrent of anticipation all around her whispering that anything was possible.

She caught up with Paul at a newsstand less than a block from the Empire State Building. Her husband picked up a copy of the New York Post and scoffed at the headline.

"Will you look at this?" He stabbed the paper with an index finger. "Another damn super villain terrorizing America?" Paul slammed the Post back down. "Why don't they go attack someplace useful, like Iran?"

Joanna pursed her lips and chose her words carefully. She didn't need another argument. "At least we _have_ superheroes here. We're lucky. There are more heroes coming out to fight for us every day-"

Paul's body went rigid with anger. "You know who the _real_ heroes are, Joanna? Our servicemen. Our brave men and woman in the military. Our firefighters, the police…"

"I'm not saying those people aren't heroes, too…"

Paul stepped closer to her, itching for a fight. "This world isn't big enough for morons with super powers calling themselves 'heroes.'"

"Stop it, Paul. You'll upset Sophie."

"Are you worried about me upsetting Sophie?" He smirked. "Or you?"

Joanna felt her face flush. She bent down to her daughter and played with one of Sophie's blond curls. "Hey sweetie, can I get you anything? There's an ice cream vendor right here…?"

But Paul wouldn't let it go. "This world would be better off if we put all those super-powered egomaniacs in a holding cell and just let them kill each other."

He grew cold and quiet, but Joanna was furious. "That's enough! This is our vacation, our _only_ family vacation..."

Her husband's face seemed to soften a bit at her words, but then he spoke. "I keep forgetting how important these family outings are to you, being adopted and without your own true family and all…"

Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of her daughter. She took Sophie's hand and walked to the entrance Empire State Building. To hell with her husband. Paul wasn't going to spoil her time here. After a few feet, he trailed after them.

Sophie leaned her head back as they got closer to the building, She gasped at the height of it. "Mommy! It's touching heaven!"

Joanna laughed then, and allowed a few tears to escape. "It does look that way, doesn't it?"

Joanna could feel Paul's presence behind them, could practically feel the dissatisfaction emanating from his silent sulking.

"Christ. Another line just to get inside the building," Paul muttered. "There's always a damn line…"

So much for silence. People were started to stare, and Joanna felt her anger boil to the surface. She pushed it back down.

"I have an idea," she said, more to her beloved daughter than her husband. "Why don't I get you that ice cream?"

Sophie grinned, showing the gap in her mouth from the tooth she'd lost right before they'd arrived in New York. "Chocolate, please!"

She smiled down at her little girl before turning to her husband. "Since you hate lines so much, you can go get the ice cream."

Paul bristled. "No, I'm fine here."

"But you just said..."

"My feet hurt, okay?"

Joanna nodded curtly and left the line to head back to the ice cream vendor next to the newsstand.

"Bring me back an ice cream sandwich," Paul called to her.

She ignored him.

Joanna walked back to the block where the ice cream vendor had set up shop. She smiled at him as she rummaged for cash. "Can I have a fudge bar, please?"

The man nodded and opened the metal door that housed the ice cream underneath. Blessed frigid air flowed over Joanna's face from the refrigeration. She smiled and closed her eyes…

 _BOOM!_

The ground quaked beneath her feet. Her eyes flew open. She whipped her head to look back at where the deafening sound had come from and saw a world in chaos.

Had a bomb gone off? Feminine screams and masculine shouts of terror split the air. Windows shattered from buildings all around her. The glass rained over pedestrians racing for cover. Joanna watched in shock as metal pieces from nearby structures crumbling to the ground.

A terrorist attack. It had to be.

Joanna didn't think. She just ran. Back to the Empire State Building. Back to Sophie. Her daughter needed her.

Crowds of people flew past Joanna as she ran. Another _BOOM_ rang out, and outer portions of the Empire State Building began to flake away as if someone were peeling it apart. Joanna ran faster.

All around her, people scrambled to get away. Joanna was the only one heading toward danger. A small, sane voice inside Joanna's head told her she was being foolish, that there was nothing she would be able to do once she reached Sophie. But she didn't care. She didn't even think about the fact her journey could very well be a fool's errand. Even if she ran to her death, she wasn't about to let her daughter die without her.

A huge metal piece of an office building came crashing down near Joanna. She refused to stop running, but she did look up. And what she saw made her blood run cold. A massive black hole had opened up right above the Empire State Building. Masses of dark shadows flew out of the hole. Flashes of light from the shadows struck buildings to her right and left. With each flash, the buildings around her fell apart.

Joanna's heart sank. Not a terrorist attack then. Something much worse.

Avenger tower was in the city though. And Spiderman. Even the X-men were close to New York, weren't they? One of them would come before anything happened to Sophie. They had to.

"Sophie!" Her screams barely carried over the cries of the people racing away. "Sophie!"

A rush of wind almost knocked her off her feet. For a moment, Joanna thought the wind was coming from the chaos of the falling buildings. Instead, a man dressed in strange blue garb with a flowing red cape landed right in front of her. Emotions flooded her mind. She was grateful to finally see a superhero, but the man blocked her way to Sophie.

To hell with him.

She kept going, ran toward him.

He didn't move.

Joanna darted to the right to get around him. But the man made a strange movement with his hands, and instead of seeing the Empire State Building directly in front of her, she saw a grassy meadow instead.

"Sorry," he said. "No death wishes today."

And he pushed her inside.

She landed on her side on top of a thick carpet of grass. She shook her head to clear it and breathed in the scent of the agrarian landscape. No smells of diesel fuel or hot city concrete permeated the air here.

She whipped her head around in shock. What the hell had just happened? All around her were dozens of others, just as stunned and confused as she was. The only difference was that they had family or friends with them, whereas she had no one.

Joanna jumped to her feet, desperate to keep going. She had to find Sophie. The circle she'd been pushed through floated in front of her. She watched in horror as it began to close, sealing her off from death but also from her beloved daughter. The last thing she saw were the icy blue eyes of the superhero who had saved her life but had sentenced her only child to death without a mother.

She screamed Sophie's name, over and over again, until her voice gave out along with her body. And then she collapsed into sobs.


	2. Chapter 1

**NOW**

One year ago today, Stephen thought. One year since the Dark Dimension Calamity that had terrorized New York.

Stephen Strange stood next to the ruins of the Empire State Building to pay his respects. Not for long, of course. He didn't want to attract attention, and the Cloak of Levitation certainly attracted attention. The red cloak could change shape, even form, and before they had left the Sanctum he'd asked her (quite nicely) if she could don the simple appearance of a trench coat, but for some odd reason the cloak wouldn't have it. So, here he was, standing in full Kamar-Taj attire in the center of Manhattan.

Stephen stared down at the crimson fabric floating around him and shook his head. "We look ridiculous."

Her hem snapped in reply.

He had no idea why he always thought of the sentient cloak as a "she." It could have just as easily been a "he." But calling the sentient cloak an "it" just felt wrong to him.

The cloak tugged on his neck, forcing Stephen to turn his attention back to the memorial that had grown organically right after the Calamity. A fence had been erected around the ruins almost overnight, and immediately the chained links became a tribute to the dead. Flowers, photos, stuffed animals, and candles saturated the ground around the sidewalk to honor those who had fallen. As the months passed mourners continued to come, adding even more items until the memorial had grown to such a size the city hadn't been able to begin construction on a new towering mammoth to replace the Empire State Building. It was just as well, Stephen thought. It seemed irreverent to rebuild, at least so soon.

The Cloak tugged at him again.

"If you want my attention," Stephen said. "There are better ways to get it."

The Cloak shook her collar in answer.

The crowds were thinning out. The gray clouds hovering over the Sanctum when Stephen had left were now dangerously black. The sky rumbled its annoyance. Any minute now, Stephen thought, and we'll get a summer shower. Maybe the storm could wash away the guilt he felt at not being able to save everyone.

That fateful morning, Stephen had been meditating in his room when he'd felt a… shift. A heaviness resting over his spirit, and a dimensional change in the very air around him. He'd jumped to his feet, and without even having to find the Cloak of Levitation, she had attached herself around his neck as they moved as one through the open portal he'd created to arrive at the center of the disturbance.

A pitch-black hole had opened over the top of the Empire State Building, growing in intensity by the minute. Dormammu's disciples from the Dark Dimension poured from its gaping mouth. All around Stephen, buildings were being ripped apart by the impact of the dimensional shift.

Stephen had done his best to save those he could, all while trying to shield himself from the dark forces attacking him. He had opened a portal to Central Park in front of those running away from the chaos, thinking that its location as a focal point would make it easy for loved ones to find one another again. Everyone he'd saved had sung his praises to the media later that evening, grateful to the weirdly garbed stranger who had miraculously teleported them and saved their lives.

But all Stephen could think about were the images of those who had died. The video collage had played non-stop today (thank you, CNN). There had been a time when Stephen never would have wasted his energy meditating on those he couldn't save, only on those he could. Every life under his skilled hands was his to control, and he was their savior. Looking back, he had no idea what the Ancient One had seen in him, but he grateful every day that she had seen something greater than the shallow man he had been.

Today, it wasn't just the photos of the dead that assaulted his senses. He had no answer to the question that loomed heavy in his mind: Why, after making a deal to leave Earth in peace, had Dormammu come back?

He had no answers.

Last year, after saving dozens of lives, Stephen had flown up to the Dark Dimension himself, even with the knowledge the Eye of Agamotto wasn't safely around his neck, to ask that very question to Dormammu. But instead of meeting the Lord of Darkness, he'd been cast back down again. The Dark Dimension had sealed itself shut, and the Calamity ended. Perhaps Kaecilius and his zealots had talked Dormammu into wrecking havoc on the city in retaliation for Stephen's "bargain." After all, they must get bored being trapped inside the Dark Dimension for all eternity.

Thunder rolled overhead. A drop of rain landed on Stephen's head. Then another.

He glanced up at the clouds. No lightning yet. The Cloak of Levitation drew closer around Stephen, not to shield him, but to try and keep as much of the rain off herself as possible.

"Don't like getting a bath?" Stephen joked to her.

The cloak pulled tighter around his neck in answer.

Stephen chuckled.

The rain picked up. One by one the small group of mourners scurried away from the memorial site until only one remained, a young woman who sat in front of two candles. The woman had no umbrella with her, nothing to shield her from the storm, but still she didn't move. She sat with her head down and let the thunder and rain fall over her as if the heaven-sent water could wash away her pain.

The summer rainstorm was turning into a deluge. Stephen gazed at the lit candles next to the fence, each one desperately trying to hold on to its flame. And felt another pang of regret. A flash of lightning split the air above.

"Time to go," he said.

As if in answer, the cloak jerked away from his neck and flew off down the sidewalk.

Stephen watched it leave in shock. He glanced around, hoping that no one had noticed. Not that New Yorkers would have been surprised considering all the supernatural phenomenon consistently plaguing their city. But if anyone had noticed, they didn't seem to care. Everyone had their head down, rushing to get out of the rain.

The cloak sped right to the memorial. Stephen followed, wondering if the cloak might understand his guilt on some visceral level that his humanity couldn't comprehend. She moved with purpose, floating right through the rain she hated so much to land above the head of the kneeling woman. Stephen watched, dumbfounded, as the cloak hovered right over the woman's body to shield her from the storm.

At the sudden dryness, the woman glanced up and around. Her eyes locked on the cloak, and her natural senses immediately moved to Stephen, believing him responsible for holding the cloak over her head.

"Sorry to disturb you," Stephen said.

The woman pursed her lips together, then nodded. "It's all right. Thank you for the umbrella."

Stephen didn't try to correct her.

So, there he stood. In the rain. While the cloak ignored him and stayed above the head of the woman. He was beginning to get drenched. And a bit annoyed.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it was wonderful to meet you, but I really must be going now."

Stephen moved to go, but the cloak stayed where she was.

The woman stood up.

Finally, he could get back to the Sanctum.

But the cloak, instead of moving to rest on his shoulders, stayed with the woman. The cloak flitted to the woman's head and draped above and around her, keeping her entire body dry.

The woman didn't seem to notice the cloak. She was too busy studying Stephen, her forehead creased in concentration. Before Stephen could say another word, the woman's eyes went wide.

"You!" she said.

"Um… yeah. It's me." He paused, considering how to best explain his role in the Calamity, and his sorrow at not being able to save whomever this woman was obviously mourning, when the woman's hands curled into fists. Her next words were like daggers, slicing through the storm to pierce Stephen's heart.

"I know you." The rage in her voice carried over the thunder. "You're the man who killed my daughter!"


	3. Chapter 2

-0-0-0-

Waves of fury took hold of Joanna in a way she'd never expected or experienced. The logical voice inside her head told her she was being totally irrational to blame this man who, let's face it, had saved her life. But as he stood there in front of her, silhouetted by the storm and dressed like a crazed ringmaster who'd fled the circus, all she felt was outrage.

The man studied her for a moment. Then, Joanna watched as his shock turned into beguiled amusement. "I believe I remember you," he said.

"You had no right to use your powers to take me away from this place…" Joanna knew she was being unfair, ridiculous even, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. The pain flowed out of her mouth.

The man ignored her contempt. "Though if I remember correctly," he continued, "you were alone and running straight to your death."

"I was running to get to Sophie!"

The man nodded, tacitly acknowledging her maternal instinct. "Your daughter?"

She nodded. A tear fell down her cheek, and she brushed it away in anger. At least he left his umbrella over her head while she raged. That was a kindness.

The past year had been a continuous nightmare. Oh, sure, Paul's parents and friends had offered their initial condolences once the funerals ended, but after a while, all of Paul and Sophie's mourners drifted back into their regular lives. No one could offer Joanna a reprieve from her sorrow especially when doing so might force them to face their own mortality. Joanna understood that, respected it even, so she kept her distance. She had been a stay at home mom for Sophie, but even after brushing up on her resume she hadn't been able to find anything beyond part-time work. The bills had piled up, and eventually, the bank foreclosed on her house. She had spent her last dollar to come back here, to seek refuge inside her grief.

"I deserved to die with my family." Her words were softer now, more forgiving.

"No one deserves to die."

Her gaze jerked up to meet his. The man's face didn't change but his eyes did. He stepped back, and Joanna realized this man, whoever he was, had lived a lifetime of pain.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save your daughter," he said.

Joanna watched as rain poured over the man, pasting his dark hair against his chiseled face. Thunder crashed overhead. The center of the storm was getting closer, but the man didn't move. In that instant, it occurred to her how selfish she was being. Here this guy was, trapped in the rain and apologizing to her after he'd gone out of his way to save her life. She hated herself in that moment, and the hatred fed on her guilt.

"It's not your fault," Joanna finally said. "None of this. I'm sorry. I should go…"

She walked away. She had to. Back to the cheap motel she could afford for another two nights, three if she didn't eat. There wasn't anything left to say anyway, and she needed to give the umbrella back. She deserved to get soaked by the rain.

She was several feet down the sidewalk when she stopped cold. She was still dry. No rain landed on her body. Was this man _following_ her? Didn't he know when to quit?

Frowning, she turned to tell him that walking with her really wasn't necessary. But the man wasn't there. He was still waiting in the exact same spot he'd occupied during their entire conversation. Alone, and without anything to protect him from the storm.

She looked up and saw a red cape hovering over her.

She gasped and took several fearful steps back.

The cape followed.

"What the—" Her eyes locked onto the man as her self-loathing changed to apprehension. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me? I'm not doing anything." The man nodded to the floating fabric above her head. "That's the Cloak of Levitation," he said. "And I think she likes you."

"… She?" Joanna glanced up again to see the cloak continuing to rest above her.

"I think of her as a she. But if you don't mind, I'd like to take her home."

"Please. Take your cape back." After being caught in a rainstorm with a crazy man who gave his clothes a _gender_ for God's sake, all she wanted was to being alone again.

"It's a cloak," the man corrected.

"Whatever. Just… take it."

Joanna put her hand on the hem of the cloak and tried to pull it toward the man, but it wouldn't budge.

The man seemed to find this amusing. His lips curved into a smile, and his eyes narrowed as he regarded the crazy floating cape above her head.

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing?" the man asked.

Joanna felt her anger return. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to give it back!"

"I wasn't talking to you."

The man strolled toward her, and Joanna's anger evolved into panic. He might have saved people's lives, but this man was obviously a lunatic. And the closer he came, the more terrified she grew. What if he decided to use his powers and toss her into another part of the city? Or worse, another part of the country?

Joanna pivoted on her heel.

And ran like hell.


	4. Chapter 3

-0-0-0-

Stephen stood in the center of the storm and watched with disbelief as the Cloak of Levitation flew above the head of the woman she'd chosen to shelter. There weren't many pupils left at the Kamar-Taj thanks to Mordo, certainly not enough to keep an inventory of all the magical artifacts in the world, but Stephen had a pretty good idea what Wong would say if he lost the Cloak of Levitation. And it wouldn't be pleasant.

Stephen raced down the sidewalk toward them. "Wait!"

The woman glanced over her shoulder, saw him coming, and ran faster.

Stephen sighed and slowed his pace to a stroll again. It was no use. He frightened her, and the closer he got to them, the more she'd flee.

He had no delusions about the fact that the cloak had a mind of her own. He certainly couldn't control her, so he'd stopped trying long ago. It was just as well. She seemed to sense when there was danger and was always there to fight with him when he needed her.

So, while the pouring rain didn't bother him (he'd learned to live with far worse inconveniences than being wet while in the Dark Dimension), the question of why the cloak left was one that weighted heavy on his mind.

Was the cloak just being whimsical? Or did she see something in this woman that he didn't? The potential to be schooled in magic perhaps? And, if so, did that mean another magical artifact would choose him instead of the Cloak of Levitation? Maybe the cloak chose _any_ pupil new to the mystic arts regardless of who it was before moving on to another student who hadn't progressed as much.

That was not a happy thought.

He checked his surroundings to make sure no one was near, and with a silent incantation and the sling ring on his left hand, he opened the Mirror Dimension and stepped inside.

There. Now he could still see the woman, but she couldn't see him. Unfortunately, the weather inside the Mirror Dimension was just as bad as in the real one. He consigned himself to being soaked through as he followed at a distance .

The woman slowed her pace. She turned, stopped walking, and gazed all around her. No doubt she was trying to figure out where he'd gone. Stephen stopped, too, and waited for her next move. If she had any capacity for magic maybe she'd sense him. But her eyes drifted over him, and she continued her trek.

The woman tried to stay under awnings as much as possible, even with the cloak above her, and turned from West 34th onto 6th Avenue toward Times Square where the crowds got larger, despite the storm. Looks from pedestrians changed from awed glances to shocked stares. Stephen kept a watchful eye over it all, quickening his pace to a few yards behind them. If anyone tried to harm either the woman or the cloak, he would be ready.

He wondered if the cloak was aware of his presence, could sense him right behind her somehow. As if in answer, the end of the cloak snapped toward him. Stephen stopped in midstride. Had he not been inside the Mirror Dimension, she would have hit him in the face. The cloak knew he was there then.

He smiled.

The woman walked for blocks. Clouds overhead began to thin out, and the rain slowed to a soft shower. All along the storefronts and restaurants lining 6th Avenue, the crowds began to file back out onto the street. Stephen kept his eyes on the cloak and picked up his pace.

Another block walked, and Stephen wondered where the woman was going. Then, she turned left up 45th and jogged through the glass doors to the lobby of the Hotel St. James. He followed.

It wasn't the best hotel around Times Square, but it wasn't the worst either. The lobby was small but elegant with its dated gold décor. Considering the fact that she was a tourist, it was the kind of hotel that was the perfect fit of location and expense.

As soon as the woman made it into the lobby, she glanced at the cloak above her. She frowned, probably wondering what to do with it. For a moment Stephen considering stepping back through the Mirror Dimension, but with the desk clerks eyeing the woman with suspicion, he waited.

Suddenly, the cloak fell. It drifted down and around the woman, not resting on her shoulders as she did with Stephen, but falling over her head and body.

The woman cursed and wrestled with the cloak.

Stephen chuckled.

A desk clerk cleared her throat. "Excuse me, miss? Are you having some trouble?"

The woman managed to gather the dripping wet cloak in her arms. Stephen waited for the cloak to object to being treated like a common article of clothing, but nothing happened. The cloak simply rested in her hands.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

She marched to the elevator. The door dinged open, and several hotel patrons exited as the woman climbed inside. Stephen trailed after her, watched as she pressed a button for the fourth floor before the doors closed, sealing them all inside.

Stephen lifted his hands to exit the Mirror Dimension but stopped short. If he appeared in this compacted space, there's no telling what the woman would do. Scream, certainly. Possibly even panic. What would he have done years ago in her place if a stranger suddenly materialized in an elevator? It wouldn't have been pretty. So, he waited.

As he considered his options, the woman rested the cloak on her other arm. She looked down at the water stains on her shirt and sighed sadly. "Guess I can dry out later."

A tear escaped, and she wiped it away hastily.

"What am I going to do with this thing?" the woman asked aloud.

For a moment, Stephen thought she might be talking to him, but no. She glanced back down at the cloak and shook her head.

"Nice magic trick though," the woman said. "I'll give the crazy ringmaster _that_ , at least."

Ringmaster? Stephen looked down at his clothing and scowled.

Time to come back to the regular dimension, this woman's fear be damned. He moved to step between dimensions, but the elevator had reached the fourth floor. The doors opened, and the woman stepped off of the elevator without a second glance back at him.

Now back in the real world, Stephen trailed her down the sad-looking carpeted floor, but the woman sensed him behind her before they'd taken half a dozen steps. She turned and let out a noise that was something between a gasp and a shriek. Her eyes darted all around as if she could find some sort of hidden doorway to explain his sudden entrance into the hallway.

"I'm sorry to frighten you," Stephen said, "but I need that back now."

A couple of hotel rooms opened down the hall, as patrons stuck their heads out, curious about the noise.

"Everything's fine," Stephen called out to them.

An elderly man shook his head as he headed back inside his room. The other patron followed, giving Stephen a suspicious glare as he shut his door.

"You can have your stupid cape back. I don't want it." The woman pulled on the cloak hanging from her arm.

It wouldn't budge.

Stephen sighed as he started down at the cloak. "This is really getting old."

The woman kept pulling. "I can't get it off!"

"Apparently, she'll come off of your arm when she's ready, and not a moment before. Are you going into your room?"

The woman went completely still. "You are _not_ coming in."

"Nor do I want to. But…" Stephen sank to the carpet. "If she ever releases her hold, I'll be right here."

"You're not going to help me get it off?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing I can do short of ripping your arm out of its glenohumeral joint. Believe me, she'll let go when she's ready."

He crossed his legs and began to meditate.

The woman let out a frustrated groan. Stephen suppressed a grin. Even if he'd heard nothing from her lips, her annoyance was tangible. The air inside the hallway was saturated with it.

Stephen listened as she walked. One step. Two… three… four… At five, she stopped. In his mind's eye, he saw her standing in front of her room, fishing out a card key from her pocket. He heard the plastic slip into the lock, felt the locking mechanism release, and watched from inside his mind as she darted inside. The door shut behind her with a sharp click.

Stephen cleared his thoughts and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

From inside the woman's room came a loud and terrifying scream.


	5. Chapter 4

Joanna stepped into her hotel room with the red superhero cape, or whatever it was, still stuck to her forearm. The material was thick, like leather, with the feel of light cotton. It certainly wasn't something she'd ever felt in a typical Macy's.

She walked to the air-conditioning unit hanging precariously out of her window and turned it all the way up, using the cold air to help dry her clothes and the cape hanging from her arm.

The cape shuddered against her skin.

Joanna froze. That couldn't have been real. She must have imagined it.

The cape shuddered again, compressing itself tighter, almost as if it were shivering.

Before Joanna could react, it flew off of her arm and into the bathroom.

Joanna let out a gasp and stumbled back, losing her balance and falling halfway onto the bed. She sat there for a few seconds, listening to her heart pounding and wondering what she should do. A part of her longed to run right out into the hallway and tell the crazy magician to take back his cape, even if he had to come into her room to do it. But another part of her, the childlike portion still in awe of magic, was curious how about this cape. Why it had flown into the bathroom in the first place? And what the heck was it _doing_ in there?

She tiptoed from the bed to the bathroom door and peeked inside.

She spied the cape wringing the unwanted drops of rain out from itself to land inside the bathtub. The cape shook itself out, and then stopped as if seeing Joanna staring at it. The cape came straight for her.

That's when Joanna screamed.

From her peripheral vision, Joanna saw movement next to the bed. She tore her eyes away from the mad cape coming toward her and eyed a small circle that had somehow appeared in the center of her room.

She stopped breathing, and her body quaked with fear. The golden circle grew in size until she could see the hallway outside of her hotel room in the background. The same man who'd been following her for the better part of an hour, walked right through and into her hotel room. The circle closed behind him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Joanna couldn't speak.

He came closer, and his hands cupped her face. "Breathe."

Maybe it was the authoritative sound of his voice, or the intimacy of his warm touch on her cheeks, but whatever it was, Joanna inhaled with a gasp..

"Good." The man nodded and removed his hands from her face. "Now what happened?"

She pointed to the bathroom door, her finger shaking.

The magician pushed open the bathroom door with a sigh. He spoke into the empty room, his voice echoing through the darkness. "Look, would you mind finishing this charade so we can go home?"

And just like that, Joanna watched in stunned disbelief as the cape drifted out of the bathroom and came to rest on the man's shoulders.

"Thank you," the man said. But he was glancing over his shoulder, obviously speaking to this cape and not to Joanna.

Joanna swallowed. "Is… is that cape… alive?"

"She seems to think so."

"How…" Joanna reached out shakily and touched the red fabric. The cape didn't react. "… How do you know it's female?"

"I don't. She acts like a woman though."

Joanna felt her pride rise up. She thought of Paul, and how he had always put women down. "And _how_ do women act?"

His eyes locked on hers. "With unpredictability but fierce independence."

She felt her anger deflate. Good answer.

Joanna rubbed her hands along her arms. The air-conditioning cooled the room down much faster than she would've liked. "Who _are_ you?"

"Doctor Stephen Strange." He held out his hand.

Joanna reached out to grasp it with shaky fingers. "Joanna Lucas."

"Nice to meet you, Joanna. And again, I'm sorry for your loss during the Calamity. I wish I could have done more."

Stephen moved to leave, but the cloak held him back. Joanna watched as Stephen tried time after time to take a step to the door but kept getting pulled right back where he stood. Like a horse collar, the cape prevented him from getting near the exit. The sight made Joanna smile her first smile in weeks.

"I think she _is_ female," Joanna said.

Stephen gave up on moving. He sighed. "I'm glad the two of you have bonded."

"Maybe you're not crazy after all."

He gave her a sour look.

"How did you appear out of nowhere inside the hallway? And then come into my room?"

"I traveled through dimensions with the help of this." He held up his left hand and pointed to a huge but lackluster flat ring that took up half of his knuckles.

She shook her head. "You sound crazy. You know that, right?"

"I'm aware"

They stood there, staring at one another, wet from the rain, and trapped by the whimsy of a superhero cape. It would've been laughable, Joanna thought, if it weren't so insane.

"Well, since we're both stuck here…" Stephen leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The cape allowed him that freedom at least.

"You, um, want a towel or something?" she asked. "You're soaked through."

There it was again. The smile on his face, the pain in his eyes. He shook his head. "I've been through worse."

They grew silent. Joanna felt vulnerable as she stood here, in front of this strange doctor who wouldn't stop studying her face like there was a puzzle locked inside her features.

"We should get to know one another," he said. "Since we're stuck. Where are you from?"

"St. Louis."

He nodded. "I've never been inside the city, but I've flown through there a few times."

The cape fluttered against his back, making it seem as if waves were rolling over its fabric. Stephen glanced behind him. "Perhaps I should formally introduce her to you as well. Cloak of Levitation, meet Joanna."

"What, your magic cloak doesn't have a real name?"

"If she does, she hasn't told it to me yet. Maybe you could ask her." His smile widened. He'd made a joke, but Joanna was too overcome with mixed emotions to laugh.

The cloak held out a part of its fabric to her. Joanna reached out and touched it. The cloak wrapped itself gently around her hand and shook it up and down before letting go.

Joanna shuddered.

Stephen watched this exchange with fascination. He glanced at the cloak, then back at her. The intent look of concentration returned to his face. Then, as if he'd suddenly made up his mind about something, he moved from the wall to stand up straight.

"If you could be anywhere in the world right now," he said. "Where would you be?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No. It's just a question."

Joanna didn't trust him, but the question seemed innocent enough. She pursed her lips. Where would she go if she could? Back home? No, there was nothing left for her there except bittersweet memories. "I don't know… A beach, maybe."

"Which beach?"

"Does it matter?"

"Actually, it does."

"Fine. Hawaii, then."

"Which island?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't know! Pick one!"

"If you insist."

He came to stand right next to Joanna. She felt herself tense, but before she could order him to move, the crazy doctor pulled his hands out in front of them and rotated his wrists. From the surface of his hands, Joanna could see thick scar lines running from his wrist all the way to his fingertips. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened to him, but the question died in her throat. A tiny golden circle of light appeared in front of Joanna. It grew in size until it was huge, big enough for a man to walk through.

Or a woman.

Inside the circle was a breath-taking ocean view. She was about to ask the magician how he created such an elaborate illusion, when the warm salty air hit her face. She took a deep breath and inhaled the ocean.

No one could fake that. Could they?

The sun was rising, and the beach was deserted except for a couple monk seals dozing down the shoreline. The waves broke violently against the shore, spraying their watery foam up into the air. Joanna couldn't help herself. She walked right through. She expected walking through a portal to feel otherworldly, but instead it felt surprisingly natural.

A vague memory crept inside her mind. A disturbing memory of walking through another portal years ago as a child, this one black as pitch. Colors and shapes spun around her in a dizzying array, and all she saw was darkness, but even through the turmoil of her surroundings, she felt so much more alive…

She shook her head, as if to clear it. Of course walking through a portal felt natural, she chided herself. Didn't this doctor shove her through one last year? And the darkness she saw must be her mind's attempt to project her heartbreaking loss. The turmoil, the darkness… the metaphor made sense. That image in her mind couldn't be any more real than the sand beneath her feet.

And yet…

She knelt down and picked up a handful of the soft sand. As she rubbed it together between her fingers, the gritty texture on the surface combined with the wet, thicker sand underneath. The sun's rays grew stronger overhead, warming her back, as another cool wave gurgled up to the shoreline. It splashed against her feet before retreating back into the Pacific. And this ocean was blue. Not grayish blue like she'd seen on the East Coast when she was a child living with the only foster family who'd ever been kind enough to let her vacation with them, but honest-to-God _blue_. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sea. My God, this felt so real...

"We're in Kauai."

The sound of Stephen's voice startled Joanna. She had forgotten all about him.

Stephen didn't seem to notice. He nodded behind him to the cliffs towering above. "Honopu beach," he said. "Voted the best beach in the world by Traveler magazine in 2015."

She stared at him in stunned silence. "You sound like a travel brochure."

"Photographic memory."

Joanna had no reply. The gold circle, no gold _portal_ , behind Stephen sealed itself shut, and her hotel room disappeared. Joanna trembled with the memory of having one shut behind her last year, the one that took her away from her daughter. What the hell was she doing here?

"Impossible to get to this beach by land, however." Stephen walked closer to the shoreline. "And ships aren't allowed to dock, so to get here, people have to swim." He grinned at her. "Well, _most_ people have to."

Emotions tumbled around inside Joanna, each one vying for her attention. Fear, surprise, awe... even anger.

"You're not happy," Stephen said. "I can tell."

"This isn't real. It's just a trick."

"Okay, fine. How about this then?"

He waved his hands and another portal appeared. Before she could protest, he took her arm and guided her inside with him.

Now they were inside a city at night. The soft glow of street lamps cast their silhouettes into long shadows. The smell and sounds of this city was completely different from her home in St. Louis or even New York however. Joanna risked a glance behind her and saw Stephen's portal close yet again, this time with Kauai dissolving away instead of her hotel room.

"Where are we?"

A soft smile formed on Stephen's lips. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't you walk around and find out?"

Joanna set her mouth into a thin line and nodded. She began to walk forward, not sure where she was going. Stephen stayed a step behind her, always present but never intruding. The streets were cobblestones. They looked old, but maybe it was simply the shadows that made the stones appear darker. The street lights and the warm glow from nearby cafes felt softer than the neon lights that glared out at her inside Manhattan. But it wasn't until she traveled a bit further through the night and saw the Eiffel Tower that she knew for sure.

She stopped cold. "We're in _Paris_?"

"Yep. Unless you think it's yet another illusion."

"I'm… " She sighed. "God, I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Her head on a swivel, Joanna no longer trusted her eyes. She went closer to the Eiffel Tower, taking in the sights of the small cars driving nearby, the sounds of laughter on the night air. This couldn't possibly be an illusion, but there was only one way to find out.

Joanna headed to the nearest pedestrian, an older lady walking her tiny dog.

"Excusez moi s'il vous plait," Joanna said.

The woman eyed her clothes, her face, and frowned at her. "Oui?"

"Ummm…." Joanna gave up. _Excuse me, please_ , and anything else playing over the bathroom speaker in a la Madeleine restaurant pretty much made up the extent of her French.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Vous êtes un Américain, n'est-ce pas?"

Stephen came to her rescue. "She's asking if you're American."

"Oh." Joanna felt embarrassed. "I don't know a lot of French, actually. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to talk with her..."

"You were thinking this couldn't be real, and you were testing your theory."

Stephen's eyes once again trapped hers, and she felt like he could see right through her.

The french woman started speaking even more words in French. Joanna was no expert, but it sounded like she was getting impatient. Stephen turned to the lady and smiled. Fluent French poured from his lips. The woman returned his smile, said something to him, and trotted along with her dog.

"What did you tell her?" Joanna asked.

"I told her she was as lovely as the evening, and that you were my pupil. She commended you on your French and told you to keep it up."

"Really?"

He arched an eyebrow. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't know what to believe."

"I'm trying to prove to you that this isn't a trick, Joanna. That we're actually walking through time and space."

"Why?" Tears filled her eyes, though she wasn't sure why she felt the urge to cry. "Why are you wasting your time with me?"

He exhaled slowly. "In all honesty, I'm not sure. From the moment I arrived at the Calamity Memorial, the cloak has been trying to focus my attention on you. And I don't know why. I hate not knowing."

"I see."

But she didn't see. Not at all.

"How about I take you back to your hotel?" he offered.

She nodded.

Another portal, another few steps, and there they were back inside her room at the Hotel St. James.

"It's freezing in here." Joanna's teeth chattered as she turned down the air-conditioning she'd accidentally left on high. Outside, it was still daylight. But then it would be, Joanna chided herself. France was in a different time zone.

She turned back around to face Stephen and didn't see him or the cloak. She didn't know why, but she felt disappointed by him no longer being there. Maybe he'd just opened a portal and gone back to wherever he'd come from.

But then she heard shuffling in the bathroom. Stephen came out with a thin but full-sized bath towel.

"Here." He handed it to her. "It's not perfect, but it should make you feel a bit warmer."

She took it gratefully and wrapped it around her.

"How long are you staying in town?" he asked.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Until my money runs out, which shouldn't take long now."

Stephen's eyes softened, and she finally had to look away.

"I don't want your pity," she said. Her words were bitter.

"I'm not offering you pity," he said. "But I _am_ offering you a place to stay, if you'd like. The entire second floor of… my home is full of empty rooms. And if you think the dimensional portals were interesting, I promise you haven't seen the half of it." He held out his hand. "But it has to be your choice."

Joanna stood in a place of indecision. She had to be insane to even be considering this. She didn't know this man. He could be anyone, a mental patient, a serial killer. And he certainly didn't act normal. At the same time, she couldn't deny what had happened to her today -the floating cloak that seemed so alive, the incredible portals and places she'd just experienced were more real than the sorrow she'd wrapped herself in over the past year. Was that what this man offered? Not just a second chance, but also something greater than her reality, something supernatural? She didn't know why, but she felt as if every event in her life so far had brought her to this point, the rest of her time on Earth weighing on this one critical choice.

She finally, tentatively, reached for his hand. "Okay," she said. "I'll come with you."


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N- I had to rely on memories from the film, YouTube clips, and comic book pictures to try and describe what Joanna sees and how she experiences the Sanctum Sanctorum. In this chapter, I leaned heavily on movie images for the superficial aspects, though I added a couple of little details (like the M.C. Escher staircases) from the comics. The Mirror of Morgan le Fay and the Dark Energy Gem are my own creations. If you find erroneous details, PM me and let me know. I'll fix them if I can. I'd love to get this incredible place as accurate as possible.**

 **-0-0-0-**

Joanna stepped through the portal and into a mansion with modern architecture that looked far more like the entrance to an art gallery than a true home. The polished floor was made from different kinds of wood, or what looked like wood at least. She'd never seen a material like this before, at least not in any house she'd ever been in. A sunburst symbol cast in black and lighter wood tones lay in front of a staircase, with elaborate geometric pattern accenting its center. She turned to admire the soft, warm lighting and noticed two paintings framing the front door. But nothing compared to the staircase in front of her. It was wide enough for a full-grown elephant to ascend to the floor above.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"177A Bleecker Street, Greenwich village. Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum."

She gave him a wary look. "You named your house but you haven't named your cloak?"

He smiled. "Touche."

He gestured for her to lead the way, but Joanna couldn't help but stop and admire the patterns on the floor, the designs on the walls. Lines intersecting with shapes that felt familiar to her somehow though she couldn't say why.

She found similar décor when she arrived at the second floor. Ancient Egyptian busts and various artifacts from antiquity tucked away in corners yet still visible. She turned down a hallway, and the floor changed to a simple parquet design. Rows of closed doors stood before her.

"The bedrooms," Stephen said as she stared at the doors.

"Wow. How many people live here?"

"Just me for now, though I hope to one day train students in the mystic arts."

"Were you trained here?" Joanna asked.

He shook his head. "I was trained under Mordo and the Ancient One at Kamar-Taj in Nepal, though it feels like a lifetime ago."

"Do I get a cool new name if I start training?"

"Do you want one? I'm sure I could come up with a good one."

She shrugged with a smile. She was grateful for the light conversation, the freedom he allowed her as she explored. While he never said so, she imagined that she could open any of these doors, touch anything she wanted, and he would welcome her fascination and delight at each new experience. She wondered how long he'd lived alone here but didn't dare ask.

At the end of the hallway she noticed three enormous windows running from floor to ceiling. She came toward them with tentative steps. She'd never seen windows like these before. Each one showed a different place and none of them was Greenwich Village. All of them were in motion, alive behind the glass.

"Holograms?" Joanna asked as she pointed to the windows.

"See for yourself."

She frowned and walked toward them, wondering why none of these windows showed New York. The one to her left displayed a lush rainforest. The one in front of her had the crashing waves in the middle of the ocean. And the one to her right showed a vast desert. She'd never seen holographic pictures appear so alive.

"Those are dimensional gateways," Stephen said.

"Do you mean…" She glanced at Stephen, then back at the windows. "Do you mean they open to a real place?"

Stephen opened one of the windows in answer, the one with the rainforest. He stepped inside, cloak and all. Joanna had no idea what expression was on her face, but whatever it was made the magician in front of her smile. He held out a hand to her.

"The Amazon Basin awaits. Just do us both a favor and don't turn that dial you see next to the window. It will close this portal and open another somewhere else in the world."

She nodded gravely and stepped inside.

Definitely not a hologram, she thought. The humid air and earthy scents of wet wood and the sweet nectar filled her nostrils. What sounded like white noise to her urban ears enveloped everything in sound. A screech from a monkey floated down from somewhere above her. She glanced back and saw the Sanctum, or whatever he called his home, waiting through the open window on the other side.

"I feel like Alice," she said.

"How many looking glasses would you like to explore?" Stephen kept a hold on her hand as they left the rainforest to reenter the Sanctum. Joanna noticed, not for the first time, that his hands shook ever-so-slightly.

"Just one is enough for me tonight, thanks."

If he was disappointed with her lack of adventure, he didn't show it. He closed the glass window (or was it a door?) behind them, and turned the dial next to it. The rainforest disappeared and a stark arctic scene took its place. His expression was solemn as met her gaze.

Joanna sighed. "I get it. I won't touch the dials."

"You can turn the controls whenever you'd like, but don't get trapped inside. I can come back whenever I want…" He held up the hand with the giant lackluster ring. "But you can't. Not unless you learn how to travel through the multiverse."

"The multiverse?"

"Parallel universes. Some like ours, some far worse."

Inside Joanna's mind, she flashed to the same place she'd seen earlier today when she'd first walked through the portal. A place full of darkness, a powerful being obsessed with malice and torment, but it disappeared so quickly she couldn't be sure…

"The Sanctum Sanctorum is full of mystic energy, and has quirks even I am still learning about." Stephen's voice broke through her vision, bringing her back to reality inside this crazy house. "Would you like to see more?" he asked.

Joanna wanted to see everything. Minutes turned into hours, she was sure, and yet Stephen never grew impatient, never asked her if she'd seen enough. He simply watched her with those analytical eyes of his. She wondered again if he ever spent much time with other people. Probably not, she decided, especially if he dressed like that.

She was about to go up the last flight of stairs to the third floor when she saw a staircase hanging upside down in the far corner of the house. It looked a lot like a M.C. Escher portrait, but it had to be real. When was anything a simple portrait in this place?

She came closer and saw that the upside down staircases weren't only in this corner of the second level. Rows of those stairs were all over the second floor, some leading down and some up. Some seemed to lead nowhere at all.

Joanna gazed at one on the ceiling, shaking her head. "Honestly, I don't see the point of stairs that lead nowhere."

"Who says they lead nowhere?"

"These stairs _can't_ go anywhere. They're upside down."

"Are they? Or are you the one who's upside down?"

Just when Joanna thought she'd seen everything, Stephen walked to a corner and placed his foot on the first step. She watched in shock as he continued up (or was it down?) the stairs and on to the ceiling.

"How… how did you do that?" she stammered, staring up at him.

He smiled. "The power of belief."

Joanna shook her head firmly. "No. No one can do that."

He chuckled. He seemed to be enjoying himself up there. "Why not?"

"Because it defies the law of gravity, that's why not!"

He shook his head. "Our minds shape our reality, Joanna. I think it shaped yours a long time ago, forcing you to see yourself as a victim for who knows how long."

She digested his words as he came down from the steps, his magic cloak flowing behind him. When he stood back in front of her again, she expected him to keep giving a lecture on her reality. But he didn't. He just stood there, waiting, allowing her to be the one to decide where they should go from here.

Joanna said nothing. If he was waiting for a reply about her victimhood, then he'd be waiting a long time.

She chose to go up to the third floor on _real_ stairs that actually led to a _real_ floor and not the ceiling. She ascended to the third level, and that's when she realized just how mystical this place truly was.

In front of her was a circular window with swooping lines running across the glass. The lines ran up and down like a stretched tic-tac-toe board gone askew. A large circle was carved into the floor before the window, every part filled with intricate symbols. Candles lined the sides, and cushions waited along the wall. It looked like the perfect spot for prayer. Or meditation.

But it was the floor to ceiling artifacts that captured her attention. Statues and ancient Egyptian relics accented the space. Many of them remained secure behind glass cases. Some were displayed out in the open. It was like being inside a history museum. Books lined the walls on shelves that reached to the ceiling. Joanna didn't see a ladder, but then again, who needs a ladder when you can walk on the ceiling?

"The Chamber of Relics," Stephen said.

His magic cloak drifted from his shoulders and flew on ahead of them as they walked, as if guiding their way. Joanna followed along, admiring the various weapons and armor. Whenever she stopped in front of a glass case, Stephen explained what she was staring at.

"The Wand of Watoomb." Stephen pointed out a brass rod with a skull on its tip. "Usually kept in the Hong Kong Sanctum. It chose a fellow sorcerer named Wong as its keeper. Just as the Cloak of Levitation chose me."

"Chose?"

He nodded around the room. "Each magical relic chooses its sorcerer when he or she is ready."

"How does an relic…?" Joanna shook her head. "Never mind."

They continued their journey around the third floor. Joanna wanted to see everything, learn about every incredible object she saw even if she wouldn't remember its name later. There was something called the Evil Eye, that she'd probably never touch now thanks to its name. The Brazier of Bom'Galiath. The Orb of Agamotto. And a lot of axes hanging on walls that apparently didn't have any magical properties at all. Just when she was about to ask if she could crash in one of those empty bedrooms, a full-length mirror in the middle of the room caught her eye.

"The Mirror of Morgan la Fay," Stephen said. "It allows those it chooses to see scenes from their future." He stepped closer to the mirror, closer to her. "Do you see anything?"

Joanna stared into the black glass that reflected nothing and shook her head. "All I see is darkness."

He sighed. "Yeah, I've never seen anything inside it either. Wong thinks it's broken."

"Wong?" She frowned. "Oh, right. The guy who uses that wand thing."

"The Wand of Watoomb, yes. And he's one of the caretakers of the Sanctums, though he's in Kamar-Taj at the moment."

Joanna covered a yawn. "Maybe I should get some sleep."

Stephen nodded, and gestured for her to go first toward the stairs. Joanna led them down the last aisle of relics, but was too exhausted to ask any questions about them. As she made the last turn, she saw a black spark inside one of the smaller glass enclosures. It flashed an eerie dark light at her as she passed.

"Wait!" Stephen ordered.

Joanna froze. "What's wrong?"

He nodded to the tiny black object inside the glass display case. Joanna squinted and saw a small dark stone, no bigger than an infant's fingernail.

"It doesn't look that dangerous," she said.

"No one knows how dangerous it is. It's an energy gem taken from the Dark Dimension by the Ancient One." Stephen studied the black gem as it glistened. "It only becomes animated when something or someone from the Dark Dimension comes near this Sanctum."

Joanna rubbed her arms. This room suddenly felt much colder. "You mean that black hole might open up again? Right here in this room?"

"The notes I read on its properties suggest if the Dark Dimension opens, the gem would grow large enough to fill this entire enchanted case. It certainly grew to that size a year ago."

"So… we're safe?"

He smiled at her. "You're safe here, Joanna. I promise."

He allowed her to lead the way back to the second floor, but every time Joanna turned back she could see the look of worry on his face. Something about the gem had upset him, and Joanna was too emotionally drained to figure out why.

When they reached the second floor, she chose a bedroom one room down and across from his. Close enough for her to feel secure, but far enough away so that she still had her privacy. The modern bedroom she'd chosen had an Asian vibe, with vibrant red and purple hues on the paintings and bedsheets. Stephen turned on several stained-glass lamps and pointed out her private bath. It was then Joanna realized she'd forgotten her suitcase. Stephen created another portal, and in a matter of seconds, she walked right back into her hotel room to retrieve it.

"Well, thank you for letting me stay here," Joanna lugged her suitcase to the bed as Stephen's portal closed behind her. "To be honest, I'm not sure yet if I want to be trained to be… whatever you are."

"A sorcerer."

"Right. It just sounds so… "

He smiled. "Strange?"

"I was going to say 'unlike me.'"

His face softened. "I was once where you were, Joanna. I understand your hesitation, so please believe me when I tell you that no one will force you down a path you don't wish to take, least of all me."

"Thank you."

Stephen showed himself to the door. He crossed the threshold, and then turned, as if remembering something.

"Oh, one thing…"

Joanna threw her suitcase up on the bed and started to unpack. "Yes?"

"Do yourself a favor and stick to the main stairs and corridors, at least when you're alone. The Sanctum sometimes likes to… shift around. I once got trapped behind a wall."

Joanna felt her jaw drop.

Stephen grinned. "Well, goodnight."

And with those parting words, Joanna was left alone.


	7. Chapter 6

-0-0-0-

Stephen stepped onto the third floor of the Sanctum to meditate. As soon as he entered his favorite spot near the Seal of Vishanti, the cloak flew off and down the stairs. Stephen shook his head. He had no idea where she would go, but he hoped she'd be back sometime tomorrow. He knelt in the moonlight from the Seal's window and closed his eyes.

Stephen meditated in the darkness for almost an hour, concentrating on the energies present inside the Sanctum. So far he sensed nothing from the Dark Dimension, and the Dark Gem's energy inside the enchanted case remained silent. He reached out for Joanna's aura and found it in a state of deep sleep. Perfect.

He uncrossed his legs and drew to his feet. It was morning in Nepal, and Wong would almost certainly be in the library.

Stephen thought about going downstairs and simply crossing over the gateway into the Kamar-Taj, but where was the fun in that? Wong would expect him to come through the gateway like all Sanctum caretakers. He grinned and created a portal that led inside the library and right behind Wong's desk.

Sure enough, Wong sat with his familiar earbuds on, listening to the latest pop tunes. Stephen walked right up to him and tapped his shoulder.

Wong yelped and jumped a mile. When he turned and saw Stephen standing there, he removed his earbuds with a sigh.

"I suppose asking you to stop doing that would be a waste of breath." Wong said.

"Pretty much."

Wong turned back to the book he was reading. "How are things in New York?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Had the Cloak of Levitation fly off to a woman named Joanna who's now possibly my first pupil in the mystic arts… Oh, and the Dark Energy Gem flared up tonight."

Wong's eyes widened. He placed his book down. "You've been busy."

"You could say that."

"Didn't have time to change your clothes?"

Stephen glanced down at his slightly damp outfit with a frown. "Slipped my mind."

"Where's the cloak now?"

"Somewhere inside the Sanctum. Possibly guarding Joanna. She seems to like Joanna."

Wong chuckled. "You're so certain the cloak is a 'she.""

"Gut feeling."

Wong grew serious. "Is the cloak protecting her?"

"I think so, yes."

"It has good instincts. Where is Joanna now?"

"Sleeping in the Shangri La room."

"Nice room."

Wong stepped away from his desk toward the section of books reserved for master sorcerers. Stephen followed. Even after all this time, Stephen never grew weary of the Kamar-Taj library. The scent of the varnish on the wood floor and shelves, the fragrance of the dusty pages from the ancient manuscripts. In all his years, the largest medical collection or underground stacks from the biggest library couldn't rival the knowledge nestled here nor the nostalgia this place brought him.

"Describe what happened with the Dark Gem," Wong said.

"Joanna and I were walking by its case, and it flashed."

"Flashed?"

"Like a pulse more than giving off true illumination, but yes."

"Was it just one flash or a pattern?"

"Just one dark flash," Stephen replied. "But it happened twice. Once when we passed the case, and the second time when we stepped closer to it."

"Has it ever done that when you were in the Chamber of Relics alone?"

"No."

Stephen expected Wong to lead him to one of the dozens of chained books in the Ancient One's collection within the master section. He'd read almost all of them over the years, but instead of turning to the ancient texts, Wong walked right into a wall.

Stephen cleared his throat. "You know, I have Google Maps if you need it."

Wong shot him an annoyed look, and swung his arms in an arc to create a spell. Golden Eldritch light filtered over the wall to form a square that looked a lot like a door. Wong finished the spell by placing his hands inside the door he'd created and turning an invisible knob.

The wall sprang open.

"I thought you said no knowledge was forbidden here," Stephen said.

"It's not my fault you didn't sense the hidden gateway."

Stephen scowled but conceded the point. He trailed Wong inside the room, which turned out to be a tiny library. A single torch flickered against the wall where a shelf stood in front of them. But instead of books on the shelf, Stephen saw scrolls.

"First editions?" Stephen lifted the nearest scroll. "I thought someone would've transcribed this inside a book by now."

Wong smacked his hand.

"Ouch."

"You can peruse later. That's not the journal we want."

"Journal?"

Wong lifted a scroll from the top shelf and walked to a small desk that had been set up against the wall underneath the torch. On the desk lay a bone-dry inkwell and several fragile quills.

Stephen smirked. "Did you used to slave away inside this room before you got promoted?"

No sign of humor from Wong. "This was the Ancient One's private space for recording spells and her experiences in different dimensions, including the Dark Dimension." Wong tapped the scroll lightly. "This is the scroll where she records being given the Dark Gem."

"Given?"

Wong nodded. "Just read."

Stephen did.

 _1982 A.D., December 21_

 _I should not have traveled up to the Dark Dimension to speak with Dormammu. I know that now. But it was of the utmost importance he understand that Earth was not to be touched. We reached an understanding today –he would continue to rule over his domain without any interference from us, so long as this Earth dimension remained unmolested. It was a treaty I had to make, as he was beginning to sense my use of magic from his dimension to remain Sorcerer Supreme._

 _I was going to leave then, should have left in that moment, but something inside the Darkness called to me. A feminine spirit._

 _I followed the silent cry of her soul to find a Faltine locked inside a prison. She said her name was Umar, sister to Dormammu, and he had trapped her in human guile. She had been ruler over the Dark Dimension, keeping balance between the darkness and the light before Dormammu took power._

 _No woman should be imprisoned inside his domain, but I couldn't simply set her free. Releasing her would certainly nullify our agreement, risking his wrath upon Earth. I'm ashamed to say I chose to leave her._

 _But her spirit called back to me, and that's when I saw the child. A girl._

" _Her name is Clea, and she is part Faltine, part Mhuruuk*. She is heir to this realm, and my magic cannot disguise her any longer. I know you come from a life-sustaining universe, a life-giving dimension. You can leave me here in torment, but please... please take her with you."_

 _I stole Clea away. Perhaps I shouldn't have. The child was so small, but still I brought her to the Kamar-Taj, hoping to train her in magic. Clea's energy, however, was too unstable. And the screaming… It began the night she came. She cried for her mother, for the loss of energy she was used to feeding upon. The other students began to question my motives. Was this my child from an affair I'd had in the recent past, possibly with a pupil? Where did my loyalties and priorities truly lie?_

 _I sent Clea away, far away across the sea, to an orphanage in a land where magic has faded but diversity is welcomed. I reasoned this was the best thing for the girl – to go to a place where she would be away from magic, away from knowledge of her past, and, most importantly, away from Dormammu. If he ever learned of her existence, he would come for her. I became certain of it. She was an heir to the Dark Dimension, a threat to his power._

 _All I have left of Clea is a small gem her mother told me to give to her when she came of age. Another shame that I cannot keep such a promise. An energy gem from the Dark Dimension, even a small one, could be deadly to our universe in the hands of one skilled in dark magic. So, I placed it inside the Sanctum Sanctorum, a place where much dark magic had been performed over the millennia, in hopes that the gem would be content with that contained energy. So far, it has proven successful._

 _Perhaps I will check on Clea someday. I have heard they changed her name, though I do not know what it is. For now, I am content to train my pupils. A new student arrived today by the name of Kaecilius, He shows great promise, but only time will tell._

Stephen rolled the scroll back up. He had no idea what Faltine or Mhuruuk were. Some kind of extra-terrestrial race? He didn't think anything, or anyone, good could live inside the Dark Dimension. Apparently, he'd been mistaken.

So, the gem was locked inside the Sanctum for a reason. Better that this Clea never came near it then. He stood up to go find Wong, and turned. Wong stood right behind him.

Stephen jumped out of his skin. "Jesus! You scared me."

Wong _almost_ smiled. "It's Wong. But I've heard Jesus was quite talented in sorcery as well."

Stephen gestured to the lines of scrolls. "Is there anything else about the girl? The gem?"

Wong shook his head.

The two stood facing one another, but not speaking, each in their own world of thoughts. Finally, Wong spoke. "What do you know about Joanna's past?"

"Wait. You don't think she's—"

"I don't know anything about your pupil."

" _Possible_ pupil."

"All I know is that the Dark Gem only reacts when anything from the Dark Dimension comes in contact with it." Wong replaced the scroll back on its shelf. "I would like to meet this Joanna."

Stephen nodded.

Wong pulled out an iPhone and swiped his finger across it. He touched the screen once, twice. "I can squeeze you in between 9 and 10PM later tonight."

He met Stephen's eyes and smiled.

"You made a joke," Stephen said. "I'm impressed."

They left the tiny alcove, and Stephen memorized the spell Wong performed in order to seal its contents inside.

"I do know one thing," Wong said as he made his way back to his own desk inside the library.

"Oh? What's that?"

"If that woman you found is Clea, then she should never be trained in the mystic arts."

-0-0-0-

 _* A race of humanoid, extra-dimensional beings that live inside the Dark Dimension_


	8. Chapter 7

-0-0-0-

Joanna woke up to the sound of running water. Had she left the sink on in the bathroom? She opened her eyes and had no idea where she was. This didn't look anything like her hotel room.

She bolted up in bed. The velvet sheets settled gently around her, and as she took in the room she'd awoken in, her heart rate slowly subsided. She remembered now. That crazy cloak. Stephen. The portals. And this wild house called a Sanctum. It felt more like an asylum, but at least it was a relaxing one. The opposite wall had somehow morphed from artful wallpaper into limestone rocks, complete with a relaxing waterfall.

Joanna swung her legs over the side of the bed to get dressed. Out of the corner of her eye, the Cloak of Levitation drifted toward her.

Joanna yelped in surprise. The cloak halted.

"You scared me," she said.

The cloak bowed ever-so-slightly before retreating to the door.

Joanna shook her head. "My God, I'm talking to a flying cape."

She showered before getting dressed in clothes she'd worn a couple of days ago. As she brushed her hair in front of an antique mirror, she noticed the cloak hovering in the background.

Joanna put down her brush with a sigh. "What is it?"

The cloak didn't move, and Joanna felt like an idiot.

"Should I… follow you or something?"

Another little bow, and then a slight ruffle from the bottom half of the fabric closest to the bedroom door, as if it were saying, "Hurry up."

Joanna sighed and allowed the cloak to leave the room first. She followed it down the hallway and onto the second-floor, where the cloak traveled away from the rotunda and down the stairs to the first floor.

Joanna continued to follow, past the first-floor foyer and into another dark room, this one a library, or what she thought might be a library. She gazed at the incredible collection of books, wanting to stop and see if she could decipher the various language on the spines, but the cloak didn't allow her the opportunity to browse. It kept going, down another flight of stairs, where it took a right turn, then a left, until finally Joanna wound up inside a chef's kitchen in the basement.

The kitchen was enormous, far too big for a modern family, or even several families. Double ovens, three refrigerators, and metal counters lined the walls on either side of Joanna. A long chef's block island ran down the center of the room with loads of copper pots and pans above it.

The Cloak of Levitation slowed down but continued to float through the room. Joanna was grateful it had taken her to the kitchen. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, but she was starting to wonder why it hadn't just halted in front of a fridge.

And then she saw Stephen sitting at a small table under a window, reading a book.

She expected him to be dressed in the same silly outfit he'd worn yesterday, or at the very least to appear like the magician (or was it sorcerer?) he was. Instead, he was dressed in jeans and a simple long-sleeved black shirt. He looked surprisingly normal. Almost handsome. Joanna discarded that last thought before it took root in her mind.

Stephen glanced up from the book he was reading and nodded at the cloak. He then gave his full attention to Joanna.

"Good morning," he said. "I hope you slept well. The Shangri La room can sometimes change things up depending on the mood of its occupant."

"I woke up to a rock wall."

"I love that wall. Did it wake you?"

Joanna nodded.

Stephen seemed to find that piece of news amusing. "It enjoys doing that." He stood up, gathering his plate. "Can I interest you in breakfast?"

Joanna didn't know what to say. She felt odd standing there in wrinkled clothes, an obvious guest in a strange house with an even stranger occupant. She felt she should decline, but her stomach growled in protest. She nodded again. "Sure. Thanks."

"Pick a fridge."

"I'm sorry?"

Stephen gestured to the refrigerators on the far wall. "Choose a fridge and then state what you want to eat."

He had to be joking. She raised an eyebrow and watched his face for a clue. It took only seconds for his smile to evolve into outright laughter.

"You _were_ joking," Joanna said. She tried to hide her smile but failed.

He wiped a tear from an eye. "I'm sorry. The only person I can joke with doesn't have a sense of humor."

Joanna glanced over at the cloak. Stephen followed her gaze, prompting another belly laugh.

"No, not her. Wong. Wong is the one who doesn't have a sense of humor."

"You mentioned Wong last night. What does he do again?"

"He's a guardian of the Kamar Taj library and over the relics, but he also helps safeguard Sanctums if necessary." His tone suddenly became serious. "You'll meet him later."

Before Joanna could question the sudden change in mood, Stephen took a breath, and just like that, his voice became more animated again. "In the meantime, I'll cook you breakfast."

It was odd to have him cook for her, this man who was barely a friend. Paul hadn't even managed to learn how to boil water, let alone fry an egg or cook bacon. Stephen knew his way around a kitchen, but then again, he'd been living here alone for a long time. Had he said how long? Joanna couldn't remember, but considering his wiry frame, she doubted he spent the majority of his meals on pizza delivery and Chinese take-out.

Joanna was only halfway through her breakfast when she spotted an Asian man standing right outside the kitchen. He looked like a lost monk. She assumed it was Wong, and that he'd make himself at home. She kept eating. After all, having another stranger enter this house was nothing compared to what she'd experienced over the last twenty-four hours.

But Stephen intercepted Wong before he could get a foot across the kitchen's threshold. Joanna frowned over her eggs and tried to listen in on their conversation. Wong kept nodding in her direction while speaking, and Stephen continued blocking his progress to walk inside the room.

"If you're going to talk about me," Joanna shouted across the kitchen. "The least you can do is talk where I can hear you."

Stephen looked defeated but let Wong inside the kitchen. Wong strolled up to Joanna and just stood over her.

Joanna sighed and pushed her plate away. "That's okay. I was done."

"My name is Wong," The man said. "And I apologize for interrupting your meal. I know you have had a difficult few days."

"You don't know the half of it," Joanna muttered.

Wong glanced over at Stephen, and Joanna had no idea why. Maybe for moral support? But Stephen didn't move.

"With your permission," Wong said. "I would like us to go to the Chamber of Relics on the third floor."

Joanna stood to her feet. "Whatever you want to say to me, can't you say it here?"

"I'm afraid I can't."

"Well, lead the way then," Joanna said. "I assume we'll just walk through one of your portals"

"No," Wong corrected. "I don't want any magic interfering with the gem."

Gem? Was he talking about that tiny black thing on display? Joanna frowned and trudged behind this new stranger up the first flight of stairs. Stephen followed her. When Joanna glanced back, she noticed the lines on Stephen's forehead deepen.

 _He's worried_ , Joanna thought. And that thought only added to her anxiety.

When they reached the glass case that housed the black gem, Wong hung back. He tilted his head to Joanna, gesturing for her to approach the case.

Joanna sighed and came up to the glass. As it had last night, the black gem twinkled once against the lighting illuminating its display.

"Interesting." Wong came closer to the gem.

The gem went dark.

Stephen moved to Joanna's left side, coming even closer to the glass. Again, nothing happened.

"It's reacting to her," Wong said. He fixed his gaze on Joanna, making her even more nervous. "Where are you from Joanna?"

"Me? I'm from St. Louis."

"Who are your parents?"

"The people I call mom and dad? They were foster parents who adopted me when I was sixteen. They wanted a babysitter for their own kids more than another daughter though-"

"I'm talking about your _natural_ parents."

Joanna grew angry. "I would _never_ ask such personal questions to someone I'd just met."

Stephen cleared his throat. "Joanna…"

She turned on Stephen. "Look, whose side are you on, anyway? You bring me here, tell me this is a safe place, and now you're questioning me like I'm some kind of criminal?"

"Wong thinks you're from the Dark Dimension."

Stephen's blunt statement took Joanna completely by surprise. "What?"

"That gem," Stephen nodded to the display. "It's an energy gem from the Dark Dimension, and Wong thinks it belongs to you."

Now Joanna was really confused. "To me?"

"Do you know anything about your natural parents, Joanna?" Stephen continued. "Anything at all? Have you ever seen your birth certificate? Or maybe read something about them in a file?"

She shook her head. She suddenly felt numb. She could feel her emotions shutting down from the verbal onslaught.

Wong interrupted Stephen. "The stone would only call to someone or something native to the Dark Dimension. That's what it does. It longs to be free, but its power can only be used by someone from that particular place. It almost burst through its containment when the dimensional gateway opened over New York last year. Only the enchantments the Ancient One placed on the glass years ago kept it inside. The gem is trying to communicate with you, and I would like to know why."

"I don't know!" Joanna felt her defenses awaken, as they always did when she and Paul used to get into arguments about pointless things, when she felt attacked. She should've known this place was too good to be true, that this crazy doctor was too good to be true.

She was about to turn on her heel and just leave, but then reality sunk in like a millstone around her neck. She had no place to go. No money, no friends, and certainly no family. The frustration and injustice of it all threatened to boil over, leaving her weeping in front of these two men. And she refused to show weakness in front of them.

So, she did what she was best at, even though the realization of it made her feel even more like the failure she thought she was. She ran away.


	9. Chapter 8

-0-0-0-

Stephen sighed and glanced over at Wong. "Smooth."

"I'm sorry, Stephen. I know you are anxious to find a pupil…"

"I think 'anxious' is a bit of an exaggeration-"

"But all it would take is a basic knowledge of magic, and she could unleash who knows what from the Dark Dimension."

Stephen felt his pride flare up. "Even with my guidance?"

"You've never trained anyone before. You have no idea of the difficulties involved."

"I've trained _many_ residents in neurosurgery."

Wong stiffened. "Training a doctor to cut open the human body is not the same as training someone in the mystic arts."

Actually, Stephen could find a lot of parallels, but chose to focus on the task at hand. "When you say I shouldn't train Joanna in the mystic arts, how serious are you at enforcing that decree? Say, on a scale of one to ten…"

Wong glowered. "This is not a joke."

"No, it certainly isn't. This woman just lost her entire family to tragedy, and here we are debating whether that same dark entity is somehow a part of her DNA."

That silenced Wong.

But Stephen didn't stop. "She also has no place to live."

"I never said she couldn't reside here. The Sanctum is not only for those trained or apprenticing in the mystic arts. It has always been a place of refuge for anyone who needs it."

"Well, it'll be a miracle if she decides to stay now."

Wong moved away from the Dark Gem, seeming to take a leisurely stroll through the relics, but Stephen could tell by the look on Wong's face that he was absorbing Stephen's words. Under normal circumstances, Stephen would have given Wong's advice about training Joanna the inherent respect his position deserved, but Stephen couldn't shake the feeling Wong was wrong. Especially since the cloak had brought Joanna to him.

Wong halted in front of the Mirror of Morgan le Fay. "This thing still broken?"

Stephen shrugged. "Seems to be."

"Did Joanna see it?"

"Yeah. She didn't see anything except darkness."

Wong appeared thoughtful as he gazed at the mirror. "Maybe in her case, it actually showed her the past. The Dark Dimension is…"

"Dark?" Stephen finished.

Silence fell between the two sorcerers. Mid-morning sunlight streamed through the Seal of Vishanti in glittering rays that caught the dust motes of the relic room. Stephen closed his eyes, searching for Joanna, and found her seated inside the Shangri La room. He reached for her aura, the light surrounding her body that housed her spiritual energy, her emotions, and felt only pain.

"What if I did a mind seek with Joanna?" Stephen blurted out.

Wong eyes went wide. "You want to go inside that woman's head and _read_ every one of her memories?"

"Since you're so convinced she's somehow the spawn of the Dark Dimension, it doesn't sound unreasonable to me."

Wong studied him, as if trying to do his own mind seek on Stephen. "I believe you've made your point. I should have been more empathetic."

"You misunderstand me. I'm being completely serious."

"Then you're insane."

"It would tell us what we need to know…"

"And you think what _I_ did was terrible…"

Stephen felt himself getting irritated. "The Cloak of Levitation chose her. You yourself said the cloak has good instincts. And I would never do a mind seek on anyone without their permission. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

Wong grunted in answer, but Stephen wouldn't back down.

"It's the only way you're going to find out the truth."

Stephen dangled that nugget in front of Wong, but the older man wouldn't take the bait. Wong shook his head emphatically. "If she is who I believe her to be, it's too dangerous. You would be swept under a current of all the emotions running through her subconscious, and if she _is_ from the Dark Dimension-"

"You think I can't handle the Dark Dimension? I was inside that place for a long time, remember?" Stephen smiled thinly. "Oh, wait. You don't remember because you were frozen in time."

A sour look from Wong. He turned to leave by way of the stairs. No portals for him when there was a perfectly good doorway to use. "I know you, Stephen. I know you won't heed my advice once your stubborn mind is set. Do what you feel you need to do."

Stephen wasn't sure he would attempt the mind seek at all. He certainly wasn't going to bring it up to Joanna when she was so close to running away from him again. "I'll keep my options open," was all he said.

"Only don't train her."

He gave Wong an innocent smile. "Who me? I don't even have an extra sling ring."

Wong waved a hand as if to dismiss Stephen's words, and trudged down the stairs. Stephen couldn't even hear a footfall from the sorcerer as he left, but he waited until he no longer felt Wong's presence inside the Sanctum before heading to the Shangri La room.

Stephen stood outside of Joanna's bedroom door for several minutes, debating with himself. He remembered being inside the Kamar-Taj years ago, believing everything he'd seen there to be a massive deception. And back then no one had questioned his past the way he'd allowed Wong to question Joanna's. He felt the familiar ripple of injustice rise up within him, but he shoved it away. It wouldn't do any good to concentrate on that now. He filled himself with positive energy and knocked on the door.

Joanna's voice rang out through the thick wood, muffled and filled with barely disguised anguish. "Who is it?"

Under normal circumstances, Stephen might have made a joke. _There's only one other person who lives here, unless the cloak has grown solid limbs_. But he was sure of one thing: Joanna wouldn't be in a jovial mood.

"May I come in?" Stephen said instead.

"Suit yourself." Resignation in her voice.

Stephen slowly opened the door. She was just as he'd seen her in his mind's eye: sitting on the bed, eyes bloodshot from crying, her mind worn out from constantly running away from her troubles.

Now was _probably_ not the best time to mention the mind seek. He chose a gentler approach. "You know you are welcome here, Joanna."

"I don't feel very welcome."

 _Tread carefully, Stephen._ "Wong felt he was protecting…" No, that was the wrong thing to say. "He doesn't know you."

"And you do?" Joanna stared at him, accusation and anger in her eyes. "You just met me. You don't know me at all."

"You're right. I don't know you, not really."

"I don't need charity."

"What about friendship?"

Joanna gave him a cynical look. "Are we friends?"

"I'd like to be."

Stephen didn't want to continue standing over her. It felt patronizing, but he also couldn't risk sitting beside her on the bed. Too intimate. So he settled for kneeling in front of her, his legs tucked under him, in the same position he'd become accustomed to when being taught by the Ancient One.

"Joanna, this place truly is a sanctuary. It's a place of refuge for anyone, not just for sorcerers, or those training to be. Over the centuries, I've learned that many people have sheltered here. Some were being trained in the mystic arts, but many of them were simply seeking solace, or protection. Some were nomadic wanderers who ended up at the Sanctum's door, and others just needed a safe place to fall while they figured out where they were destined to go."

Joanna didn't say anything, but she never broke eye contact.

"I think, for now, you may be in that latter category. You need a place to heal."

He gestured to the room around her. "This room, and everything inside the Sanctum Santorum is open to you. You are welcome here."

He saw tears form inside her eyes. He considering holding her while she cried, but touching her, even in an innocuous act of kindness, might scare her away. So, he stayed on the floor in front of her and waited.

Joanna wiped away a tear and nodded. "Thank you." Her voice was thick with sadness.

"This is what friends do, Joanna."

A curt laugh escaped her throat. "I haven't been allowed to have many friends over the years."

"Well, you have one now."

It made Stephen's heart ache to see the hurt resting inside her eyes, the way she used every ounce of her strength to fight the urge to break down completely. She was a damaged soul. He wondered when she'd last been shown compassion.

Even though he had no idea what she might do, he risked reaching out to take her hand.

Joanna visibly jolted when his fingertips touched hers, but she didn't pull away. After a few minutes, she allowed him to take hold of her hand. She curled her fingers around his.

They sat like that for a long time. Finally, Joanna looked down at his hand. "Will you ever tell me what happened to your hands?"

"If you'd like. It's a bit of a long story."

Joanna smiled. "The one thing I have is time."

So, Stephen told her everything. He held nothing back about the egotistical, self-serving man he used to be. He told her about the miracle he'd sought from the Kamar-Taj, and all the things the Ancient One had shown him. He finished with the Eye of Agamotto relic, and how he'd spent years inside the Dark Dimension, dying a painful death over and over again to try and save the Earth. Joanna's eyes were so wide at that part he could've driven an ambulance through them.

He didn't talk about the Dark Dimension coming back during the Calamity last year and the endless questions that incident had left in his mind. He was afraid Joanna would retreat inside herself, placing those defensive shields she'd created to protect her feelings over her heart, if he brought up that pain. Instead, he ended his tale with the peace he'd found in becoming a guardian of the Sanctum.

"My God," Joanna whispered. "That's… quite a story."

He smiled at her.

She returned the smile, and glanced down at their hands still locked together. Her smile faded, and she let go.

Stephen rose to his feet. He hoped he had done enough, but he couldn't think of anything more he could do to convince her. "The invitation to stay here is open. I hope you'll consider it."

Joanna pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest. "Will Wong come back?"

"Not if you don't want him to."

She let go of her knees. She expression was one of surprise. "Really?"

"I want you to feel at home here, Joanna. If I need to talk to Wong, I can go to him." He walked to the door.

"Stephen?"

He turned.

A fragile smile formed on her lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Stephen left her with the choice. It was all he could do. Her face looked thoughtful as he closed the door behind him.

He went to his regular meditation spot under the seal. The enchanted metal from its edges cast dark shadows thanks to the setting sun. He sat, crossing his legs, closed his eyes, and waited.

Stephen lingered in that same stance until it was well after midnight in Nepal and Wong was sound asleep. Then, he stopped meditating. He arose and opened a tiny portal about the size of his hand to an unoccupied room inside the Kamar-Taj. In front of him lay the display of sling rings on a shelf inside a novice training room. Stephen plucked the nearest one from its shelf and closed the portal.


	10. Chapter 9

Stephen watched the small portal close and waited.

While there were no alarms, no locks on anything at the Kamar-Taj, he half-expected Wong to burst through a portal of his own and chide Stephen for stealing, at the very least.

Stephen's real crime was far greater though. Taking the sling ring was a blatant act of defiance. He certainly didn't need _two_ sling rings of his own. If Wong knew he'd taken one, then he would also deduce that the second one would be for Joanna when the time came.

But nothing happened.

Stephen was slightly disappointed when Wong didn't show. He'd come up with at least two more persuasive arguments as to why Joanna should be trained since the librarian sorcerer had left.

Stephen flipped the additional sling ring into the air and caught it in an open palm. No sense in having it on his person when he already had one sling ring either attached to his fingers or hanging from his belt. He'd keep this extra one hidden away inside his room for Joanna, assuming she ever got to a level where she could create dimensional gateways. Assuming Joanna got to a place where she decided to study the mystic arts at all.

He headed for the kitchen. It was getting late, and his stomach protested the fact he'd only eaten breakfast. The Cloak of Levitation was gone again. For the millionth time, Stephen wondered what the cloak did when she disappeared.

He strolled down the center aisle of the relic room, passed the Mirror of Morgan la Fay and saw his reflection in the darkened glass.

Stephen froze.

A mistake. It had to be. The mirror hadn't worked in centuries according to the texts he had read.

He turned toward the glass and, just as he assumed, his reflection was gone.

Stephen shook his head, preparing to walk on, when the blackness inside the glass melted away to reveal a long hallway in front of him.

It _worked_. The mirror actually worked! Wait until he told Wong!

Stephen felt excitement flow through him. He knew he couldn't enter the mirror, but he put his hands against the dark glass all the same, wondering what would happen and ready to memorize every last detail to jot it down in his journal for posterity. The smooth surface was warm to the touch, not cool as he'd anticipated.

At the far end of the mirror's mirage a faint light appeared. It flickered in the distance like dancing flames inside a shadow. The minimal illumination was enough for Stephen to realize the hallway he saw inside the mirror was, in fact, an image from right here inside the Sanctum Sanctorum. This particular hallway was located on the first floor, next to the library. The light he saw could very well be from the fireplace there. He squinted to make out the far end of the illusion in front of him, anxious to see more.

A shadow in the form of a man passed in front of the light. If this truly was the future Stephen was witnessing, he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to speak with the entity inside the mirror.

In all the research he had done on the Mirror of Morgan le Fay, the most intriguing aspect of the relic was not the visions of the future it showed. Many relics from dozens of different cultures had that specific magical property. Sorcerers throughout the ages, from Mayan priests to Nostradamus, had utilized them. No, what was fascinating about the mirror was its ability to show a distinct moment in the future and allow the seer to communicate with that specific point in time.

The only problem, at least from the delicate pages of the books Stephen had read, was that voices couldn't carry through the glass. Ancient sorcerers had theorized that sound simply wasn't capable of spanning the distance across time. But the writers apparently _had_ found a way to communicate with the illusions through light. Centuries prior, sorcerers had manufactured Eldritch spells of pure light to write out words spelled backwards so they could be read by those on the other side of the mirror, assuming the person inside could understand the written language used. Stephen had memorized every last spell, and he wasn't about to waste this chance to add his own experience to the archives.

He raised his hands quickly and created pinpoints of Eldritch light that danced against the glass. He formed a spell as fast as he could because he didn't have time to create any written words. It looked something like a burst of fireworks.

He sucked in an anxious breath, hoping he'd gotten the entity's attention.

The shadow paused, tilted its head, and crept toward Stephen. It stopped at the end of the hallway as if studying him.

Stephen held up his hands and turned his wrists. Golden lines of illumination appeared as he moved his hands to create the Eldritch spell. The english words came out legibly to Stephen, but with a final turn, they reversed direction to be read inside the mirror.

"I just want to talk," Stephen wrote.

The shadow came closer. Whether because it could actually read Stephen's note or was simply curious about the golden fireworks he'd exploded earlier, Stephen couldn't be sure. When the shadow was halfway down the hall Stephen realized it wasn't a man at all but a woman. It wasn't until the woman was several feet away from the mirror that Stephen recognized Joanna.

The Joanna before him walked with assurance, her back straight, like she was prepared to face any challenge set before her. It was a welcome change from the frightened woman he knew who moved with the hesitance of a creature of prey, always alert for lurking predators.

She stopped in front of the mirror and smiled warmly at him. She faced him, so close he could have reached out and easily touched her if the mirror wasn't in their way. She looked older, though not considerably so. Or maybe it was her eyes. They were full of patience and the wisdom that only comes from life experience.

The future Joanna didn't lose her smile. Soft laugh lines graced her cheeks, and it made her look even more beautiful. She smiled, and lifted her right hand. On her fingers was a sling ring.

Stephen grinned. "I knew it."

He'd said the words out loud, and there was no way she could have heard them. Yet she returned his grin and swept her wrists in an arc of dazzling speed. She wrote, "You think you know everything."

Before Stephen could form a response, her hands were busy again. "It took me longer to memorize the spells though."

His grin widened. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he wasn't sure where to begin. He watched as her fingers fell to her neck. The Dark Gem rested below her collarbone, black and silent against her skin.

He wanted to ask her about the gem, about how she could control all that dark energy contained within it without going insane. He held up his hands, ready to create the illumination needed to form the words, when a little boy ran up to Joanna and threw his tiny arms around her legs.

Stephen's hands dropped. He felt as if someone had suctioned the air from his lungs. The boy was a miniature version of him.

The boy looked up at him and smiled. He pointed at the mirror excitedly, looking up at Joanna as he spoke. Stephen couldn't hear what the child was saying, but Joanna nodded to him and shooed him gently away. The boy ran off down the hall and disappeared into the darkness.

Stephen couldn't even begin to imagine the expression on his face, but it must have been one of utter shock. For the first time in years, he was rendered speechless.

Joanna locked eyes with him. She placed her left hand on the glass.

That's when Stephen saw her wedding band.

Both of Joanna's hands lifted again as she formed soft golden strands of letters on her side of the mirror. She flipped the words so Stephen could read them. They said, "Don't give up on me."

The image of Joanna and the Sanctum hallway behind her began to fade.

"Wait!" Stephen called out.

 _That was idiotic,_ he chided himself. _It's not like she can hear you, Stephen._

He raised his hands to ask her to stay, to speak with him just a bit more, but the mirage dissolved into blackness. Once again, the Mirror of Morgan le Fay stood completely empty.

It was as if he'd been punched in the solar plexus. He hadn't felt this physically and emotionally drained since back in the days of training with Mordo. He placed his palms against the mirror and bowed his head.

He had no idea how long he stood in front of the deadened mirror. The images he had seen there replayed in his mind. He turned them over and around for inspection, trying to memorize every little detail in case he'd need to remember it later.

 _Don't give up on me._

Something moved next to him, catching his peripheral vision. Stephen jerked his concentration back to the present. The Cloak of Levitation hovered nearby, floating silently, watching him.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Stephen gestured to the mirror.

The cloak's collar slowly bobbed its hem up and down once in an obvious nod.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. "She doesn't want to be trained, you know. She doesn't trust me."

Another nod.

"So what should I do?"

The cloak shimmered its fabric in a shrug, as if to say _Who knows?_

"And what if I don't want that future at all?"

That was the question nagging at his brain, the one that would keep him up at night.

The cloak didn't answer him. She floated off down the stairs.

Stephen sighed. He hadn't been the world's most empathetic teacher when he'd trained students in neurosurgery, though he would never admit that to Wong. Stephen remembered pushing some of the young doctors under his care to their breaking point. One young man even left the medical profession entirely thanks to Stephen's critical eye and insistence on perfection. Joanna wouldn't be able to handle that kind of teacher, at least not in her current emotional state. Maybe Wong was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out to teach her.

But the mirror had shown Stephen a different narrative altogether. Joanna had used magic in front of him, forming spells with ease. She had obviously been trained. He had to have been the one teaching her since Wong wasn't going to do it. And the Dark Gem had hung around her neck. Who else but Stephen could have understood and empathized with the intricacies inherent in mastering aspects of the Dark Dimension?

And if Joanna could control objects from that dimension, she was almost certainly a master of the mystic arts.

Then there was that little boy…

The boy was his. Even if the similarities weren't glaringly obvious, he knew it in his soul. He had never once thought about Joanna romantically. Yes, she was attractive, sure, but she was also emotionally vulnerable, ripped apart inside. The thought of being intimate with someone in that state made Stephen uncomfortable to say the least. He buried that thought away before it percolated in his mind.

"Stephen?"

He jumped as if a professor had caught him cheating on a test. Joanna stood at the top of the stairwell, studying his face.

She rubbed her arms in that nervous way of hers. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could help me find the kitchen? I think it moved. There's now a laundry room in its place."

Stephen nodded curtly and brushed past her. "Follow me."

He knew he was being cantankerous, but he couldn't help himself. Knowing what might happen between them in the future made him feel uneasy. It was simply too much information to take in. He didn't reject the concept of training Joanna at all, but the idea of sleeping with her? He found that particular aspect of his supposed destiny repugnant. Whether the mirror had fed on his loneliness was one thought weighing on his mind. The other thought was how to create a different future altogether, one that didn't involve any emotional entanglements.


	11. Chapter 10

-0-0-0-

Joanna must have offended him in some way. It was the only thing that made sense as to why Stephen had suddenly become so aloof.

He'd been so caring, so warm, when he had welcomed her to stay here just hours before. After his heartfelt words, she hadn't known what to do. She had wanted to stay, but she knew she didn't belong here.

After a furious debate with herself, she had begun reluctantly packing her suitcase. But every time she had tried to zip up the fabric of her bag, a _wrongness_ weighed heavy on her chest; it was the only word to describe it. She'd brushed that feeling aside, berating her mind for its overactive imagination, but that feeling had remained even after she'd given up on packing and had taken a brief nap.

Years ago, Joanna remembered feeling a similar wrongness whenever Sophie had been in trouble or in pain, even if her daughter was miles away. She always thought that connection helped solidify the bond she had with Sophie. But maybe it was something more. Maybe she was just sensitive to the hurts of others, regardless of who it was. And maybe she was needed here to help this crazy sorcerer so he could adjust to living back in the real world, and not stuck inside this fantastical but lonely place he resided in.

That was what Joanna told herself anyway. She was used to helping others with their problems. It kept the focus off of her own.

So even though she had numerous questions as to why Stephen had suddenly grown so distant, she followed him silently down to the lower levels to find out what had happened to the kitchen. It was the same path the cloak had led her through earlier this morning when she had first woken up. They traversed past the library, through a narrow hallway, and down another flight of steps. At the end of the last stairwell, Joanna gasped.

The kitchen was right back where it had been.

Stephen raised an eyebrow at Joanna, and she suddenly felt like a fool.

"I swear the kitchen moved," she stammered.

"I believe you. It wouldn't be the first time."

Stephen's words were harmless enough, almost tender compared to his order to follow him down here, but the rough edge to his voice wasn't something Joanna was used to hearing. If this were Paul, she wouldn't dare ask any questions for fear of making him angry. But this wasn't Paul, and she had gone through enough in the past year. She lifted her chin and raised her voice.

"Have I done something to piss you off?"

His shoulders sagged, as if in defeat. "No, Joanna."

"Then why are you so angry with me?"

He met her eyes and touched her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, but then immediately yanked his hand back as if her skin was somehow poisonous.

"It's not about you," he said lamely.

"Really? Because you seemed fine until I showed up."

He opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it quickly. Joanna frowned. She could tell when someone was keeping something from her, and Stephen definitely had a secret.

She looked him over for clues, just like to used to do when Sophie was trying to hide something from her. One of Stephen's hands clenched in a loose fist. "What's in your hand?" Joanna asked.

"It's not important."

Stephen started for the stairs, but Joanna cut in front of him mid-stride before he could ascend even one step to the floor above. He almost stumbled to avoid falling into her. She grabbed the hand he had closed into a fist. The scarred surface of his skin felt like rippled glass beneath her palm.

They locked gazes, neither of them willing to concede. Joanna felt her face grow hot at the connection from touching the back of his hand, but she refused to release her hold on him.

Stephen opened his palm with a sigh. Inside was one of the giant rings he wore when he waved his hands around to create those gateways.

Joanna eyed the ring attached to his belt before glaring at this additional one. "Do you need a spare?" she asked flatly.

"No."

"So why do you have an extra… whatever those things are called."

"Sling ring. And I thought I'd hold on to it in case the time ever came when-"

"When what? When I would want to be trained in magic?"

Stephen looked away.

"I never said I wanted to be trained. In fact, I'm positive I don't!"

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear."

His voice was dry and full of cynicism. Joanna recognized it all too well. And something inside of her snapped.

"I'm either welcome here just as I am, or I'm not." Joanna felt all the fury and anguish from the last year of her life crashing over her. "Which one is it?"

"It's the former…"

"Then make up your mind! Look, I can deal with a lot of things. I can take your sadness and guilt about last year. I can take your frustration with me. I know I can be a pain in the ass. I get that. But what I can't handle is duplicity."

Stephen sucked in a breath, opened his mouth to say something, maybe to defend himself… Joanna wasn't sure. She waited for him to lash out or shut down. She had become accustomed to both responses from men. What she didn't expect was a confession.

"It's not you, Joanna. It's me."

Those words again. Her anger boiled to the surface. "That's the lamest excuse-"

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen." His voice was calm. His eyes reached into hers as if tacitly begging for understanding. "That's why I'm not myself. A magical artifact apparently woke up and showed me a future I'm not sure I want."

Joanna exhaled slowly. "Okay…"

He took a step closer to her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "My behavior has nothing to do with training you. Or not training you. But that's all I want to say. Don't ask any more questions, Joanna. Please. Not right now. Let me carry this burden, and in time, I may share it with you."

Joanna's eyes widened. No one, certainly not a man, had ever tried to shield her from anything unpleasant. In fact most men seemed to go out of their way to make her life miserable, from the unwanted groping from a foster father when she was thirteen to the clumsy hands of boyfriends in high school. Even after finally allowing herself to fall in love, it had been with Paul Lucas, a man so damaged from his own abusive past that he had been incapable of protecting Joanna from anything or anyone, least of all himself.

Joanna racked her brain for what image Stephen might have seen that could have caused him to pull away from her. She was afraid to ask him, knew he had explicitly pleaded with her _not_ to ask, but she had to know one thing or she'd go crazy. "Am I going to die?"

He smiled then. "Some day. But not any time soon. I promise."

Her lips parted to ask something more.

Stephen must have anticipated a second question because he cupped her face, and that intimate gesture combined with his penetrating gaze was all it took for her to be stunned into silence. "No more questions," he whispered.

He dropped his hands and shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, I don't know about you but I'm starving…"

And that was it. He strode into the kitchen as if he didn't have a care in the world. Subject dropped, opportunity gone.

Fine. If that was how he wanted to play it. Without a word, Joanna brushed past him and opened a refrigerator. She wasn't going to let his visions of the future keep her from dinner. She took the lead in cooking her own meal. It seemed only fair. She didn't need someone else to cook for her. Neither one of them spoke as they worked on separate stovetops. The easy comradery they had enjoyed this morning had evaporated into an uncomfortable silence.

Joanna sat down to eat her meal while Stephen continued to slave away on his stove. She wondered what he was making. Four bites into her beef tips, and she noticed Stephen standing utterly still next to his cooktop. His metal spatula fell to the floor with a loud clank.

"Stephen?"

He glanced over at her. His face paled with fear.

This frightened her. She stood up from her table and came toward him. "Stephen, what's wrong?"

The Cloak of Levitation wiped into the room, flying so fast Joanna only saw its color. It attached itself around Stephen's neck as he quickly slid one of those sling rings on his finger.

"Stay here," His voice was authoritative, filled with equal parts rage and apprehension. "Do _not_ leave this room."

He opened a portal and was gone.

Joanna forced herself to sit back down to eat. Her hands trembled as they grasped her fork. Was this the kind of life she wanted? Stuck in a crazy house with a man who would evade questions and then disappear without warning? She took another bite of beef and frowned. It smelled like something was burning.

The stove.

She leapt up and turned off Stephen's gas burners. The chicken he'd been trying to brown was now a lovely black.

Joanna shook her head and returned to the chair.

Somewhere above her, she heard glass shatter. A man screamed in pain.

"Stephen?" she yelled.

The floors above her were now deathly quiet.

"Stephen?" Her shouts echoed through the kitchen as if mocking her.

She slammed her napkin down onto the table. To hell with this.

Joanna took the stairs two at a time. She ran down the hall and past the library to stand right in the center of the first floor atrium where the fading daylight filtered down to her face.

A man stepped into the light.

Joanna sucked in a breath and staggered backwards. This wasn't Stephen. This man was shorter, his skin darker, his brown eyes wild with conviction.

"Who are you?" the man asked softly.

He didn't sound American. His accent was lyrical, but his voice was angry condemnation. His odd green garments scarcely moved as he walked. A single weapon, a sword maybe, rested against his back. She hoped it stayed there.

"I'm… Joanna."

The man's gaze fell to her hands. "Are you a pupil of Strange?"

A frightened laugh escaped her throat. "God, no. I don't want to be trained in magic. I'm just… staying here."

"I see." He came closer, stopping within inches of her. He grasped her chin, pinching the skin under her mouth, and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"It's your lucky day, Joanna." He breathed. "Do you want to know why?"

Tears pooled in her eyes. She shook her head.

"Because I believe you."

Joanna never saw the man's hands move, but she did hear Stephen scream the name "Mordo" from somewhere above her. In a flash, the man holding her chin released a rapid chain of gold geometric shapes around her and pushed her backwards.

She fell, landing in a heap on hard, cold earth.

Dizzy from her fall, Joanna blinked several times. This wasn't the Sanctum. Wherever she was, it was outside. She squinted in the fading daylight to take in her surroundings. All around her were pine trees and fresh snow. She pulled herself shakily to her feet. Thankfully, nothing was broken. She took a deep breath and exhaled. The cold air pooled her breath around her face in a thin mist. Where the hell was she?

The memory of walking through portals to arrive in Hawaii and Paris jabbed at her mind. Those three huge windows that led to various places on Earth cemented the conclusion that she wasn't in New York anymore, and that man, whoever the hell he was, had sent her _here_.

Joanna started to panic. Stephen had said there were multiple universes. My God, was she even on Earth?

There were no sounds but the gentle swaying of tree limbs in the wind. No noises from cars or airplanes. No human voices. Nothing but flat earth covered in evergreen trees.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

She screamed as loud and as long as she could. From somewhere up in a nest inside a pine tree, a bird answered her shrill call. Then another. The birds gave her hope that she was at least on the same planet, but it didn't matter where she was. There was no one around to hear her, no rescue coming.

Hadn't Stephen told her you needed one of those sling rings to come back? And she had none whereas Stephen had two of them. Stephen also had no idea where on earth she was. Hell, _Joanna_ had no clue where she was. She could be anywhere. She laughed out loud, and her laughter turned to tears.

It was getting dark. Soft snow started to fall around her. She was trapped somewhere in a forest, in winter, with no one coming. Joanna shivered with the realization she was going to die as the cold twilight wrapped itself around her in a deathlike vise.


	12. Chapter 11

The icy wind whipped around Joanna's head as the snow started to pick up. She grasped her arms tight and shivered.

 _Any moment now,_ Joanna thought, _and Stephen will come walking through a portal and get me the hell out of here._

Minutes passed. The sky grew darker up above the treeline, changing the world around her to a deeper gray. Her shivering intensified and Joanna stomped her feet into the ground to stay warm, trampling the newly fallen snow. The urge to walk around in order to keep warm was overpowering, but if she walked too far away from the portal where she'd been thrown, she had no idea if Stephen would be able to find her. She wasn't about to risk moving from this spot for fear of missing her exit out of here.

 _Any minute…_

But the minutes kept passing. The silence that echoed through the forest was deafening. Joanna glanced up and saw tree limbs heavy with snowfall. The evergreen forest around her had a canopy that kept most of the dying sunlight at bay. Almost nothing filtered down to where she stood. She would've given anything to see the sun, to feel its heat on her face.

Between the sun setting and the snow picking up, nothing seemed to be working in her favor. The only positive news was that the thick branches from the forest also kept much of the snow from reaching the ground where she waited. She shuddered violently and rubbed her arms for extra warmth as well as comfort.

She tried running in place, feeling like an idiot, but once she felt herself breaking a sweat, the smallest breath of wind blowing through made her gasp with cold. She stood still once again, overcome with a violent shiver.

It was no use. Stephen might not come, could even be dead and unable to reach her for all Joanna knew. She would need to do something proactive if she wanted to survive this. She gave herself permission to cry, but not for long. Darkness was falling rapidly, and the temperature was dropping. She would need to act quickly to prevent herself from dying of exposure

 _I need to build a shelter,_ she thought. _It's the only way I will live through the night if I'm stuck here that long._

The problem was she had no idea _how_ to build a shelter. Building a refuge in the middle of an impenetrable forest during a snowstorm wasn't exactly something on most curriculums in school.

Joanna studied the trees around her. There was a nice, sturdy one nearby. Maybe she could use its base as an anchor for building a makeshift tent. She went over to a thick branch and ducked underneath it. The circumference of it was larger than her head, and if she leaned against the trunk, the branch and canopy could act as a ceiling. Maybe. At this point, even if this wasn't the best option, she just needed to figure something out, and do it fast.

She began to gather what foliage she could find to create a tent-like structure. Breaking branches nearby, she yanked the evergreen foliage out of their homes and dragged them next to her tree. Her hands quickly became sticky with sap, and the scent of pine saturated her nostrils, but she didn't stop. Joanna strained to layer the branches she had collected. The harder she worked, the warmer she felt.

Unless she stopped. Then, the cold seeped through to her bones.

Joanna kept going, trying to keep the self-pity at bay. _Some crazy magic bastard just_ had _to throw me inside of the winter wonderland from hell,_ she thought bitterly. _I left New York in July, and here I am in the dead of winter freezing my ass off._

She was stuck in her short-sleeved shirt without a jacket, but at least she had her jeans on. That was something. Every time she inevitably got snow on her hands and arms, though, it felt like an electric shock against her skin. But she didn't halt her efforts. If nothing else, the steady work of survival kept horrifying thoughts of being trapped here forever from entering Joanna's mind.

It was almost full darkness when she had enough pine branches above her head to form the pathetic shelter she'd attempted. The wind still blew in from the sides though, but it couldn't be helped.

She collapsed against the base of the thick trunk of the evergreen she was using as her "tent" and gathered up the pile of dead and fallen pine needles she'd collected to use around her body for warmth. Her body wasn't the only part of her overwhelmed with weariness. She was emotionally fatigued with dread. In her scariest moments, she never imagined going out like this.

Darkness fell, and with it came the night sounds of animals scurrying through the trees and calling out to one another. Joanna had never experienced such utter terror. The darkness all around her was complete. Nothing pierced it. She placed her hands in front of her face and couldn't even see them.

As she huddled against her tree in fear, Joanna couldn't help but wonder why she bothered making such an effort to live. Her daughter was gone. Joanna had nothing to live for, no friends, no family. The fact she had a will to survive at all felt astonishingly wrong to her. And yet she had worked until the darkness had set in without a second thought as to why.

Joanna yawned as shudders racked her body. The temperature kept dropping, and the snow was bleeding through her ridiculous canopy overhead. Her head was getting wet. Maybe if she closed her eyes, just for a minute… She was so tired.

She snapped her eyes back open. Sleeping was bad, wasn't it? Wouldn't she die if she fell asleep? God, she hoped not. She didn't think she could fight off sleep all night.

 _If I had just stayed in the Hotel St. James. If I had left that crazy Sanctum this afternoon. If I had stayed down in the kitchen eating while Stephen and that mysterious asshole beat the crap out of each other…_

If… if… if…

The conversation she'd had with Stephen drifted back through her mind, like a wave of hope. Hadn't he said she wasn't going to die soon? He had seemed so upset about whatever it was he had seen in the relic that she'd specifically asked him if she was going to die. What had he said? _Some day. Not anytime soon._ He could have been lying, but she didn't believe that. He had seemed too genuine. Even his smile had been completely sincere.

Then again, Stephen was a decent guy. He might have given her that kind smile in order to spare her the worry. He had told her to stay where she was, and she hadn't listened. Maybe this was how she was supposed to die. Maybe he had known she was going to make this choice, but had tried to fight fate. If so, he had failed. They both had.

Nothing she could do about it now. Her entire body shook with cold, and nothing she did stopped the tremors. All she could do now was continue to hope she would live. If she lost hope, she had nothing.

She had to live through this. She couldn't give up.

"Dammit, St-Stephen. If… if you're alive…" She said it aloud, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. "If you're alive, f-find me. Please."


	13. Chapter 12

-0-0-0-

There was no way Stephen would be able to find her.

Stephen flew down to the atrium, slamming a Tao Mandalas energy shield straight into Mordo's back, but it was too late. The gateway had closed. Joanna was gone.

The last image Stephen saw was her falling into a habitat that looked nothing like modern-day New York. Snow had even been falling inside that dimensional gateway. Snow. In July. He had no idea where she'd been thrown unless Mordo decided to tell him, and Mordo wasn't exactly known for his forthcoming nature.

Mordo grunted as he fell flat on his stomach. In less time than it took Stephen to take a breath, his old instructor had flipped himself around, the Staff of the Living Tribunal gripped in his hand.

"Where is she?" Stephen growled. "Where did you put her?"

Mordo smiled. "Not so much 'where' as _when_. She never left Bleecker Street, but don't be alarmed. At least no human can hurt her where she is. Animals, on the other hand…" Mordo shrugged.

Murderous anger swept over Stephen. "You could have put her in the Mirror Dimension!"

"And have her wander through the Mirror Verse, having humans believe her to be a ghost, like so many have accidentally done before her?" Mordo shot him a pitying look and shook his head. "What I did was an act of _mercy_ , old friend. I do not kill innocents. On the other hand, if you ever begin to train her…"

Stephen jumped at him in a rage.

Mordo dodged, using the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr to propel himself. The two sorcerers met in midair. Mordo's staff sliced downward, aiming for Stephen's head. Stephen darted away from the strike. The Cloak of Levitation propelled Stephen above Mordo, allowing Stephen to use one of his signature Eldritch whips. The golden whip grasped Mordo's staff and sent it flying.

Mordo bit back a snarl. His boots sent him straight for his lost staff.

Stephen wasn't about to lose the advantage. He threw another Eldritch whip directly at Mordo, this time aiming for the older man's feet. The golden chord snagged him in midair. Mordo cried out as the whip retracted.

Mordo hung upside down in the center of the atrium, like a bewildered tourist on the end of a bungee cord. The cloak brought Stephen closer to his former instructor. Stephen slowly recoiled the whip in his hands until Mordo was directly in front of him.

"I'm going to ignore the fact you placed black magic all around the Sanctum and just ask you one question," Stephen said. "I'll even ask nicely. Where did you put Joanna?"

Mordo punched him in the face.

Stephen would've fallen to the floor had it not been for the cloak keeping him upright. But the sudden strike caused him to lose his concentration. The Eldritch whips dissolved, and Mordo fell toward the marble below. At the last moment, the Boots of Valtorr righted Mordo so that he landed on his feet.

"Neat trick," Stephen said, rubbing his jaw. "Reminds me of a cat my girlfriend had back in med school."

Mordo brushed off his arms and picked up his staff. "For the record," he said. "I didn't set any spells around the Sanctum, black or otherwise."

Stephen frowned. Mordo was lying. He had to be. "Then how did dark magic wind up around the most energy-laden parts of the Sanctum?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. One of your new students, perhaps?"

Mordo launched himself at Stephen. He was so fast Stephen barely had time to form a defensive Tao Mandalas shield. Mordo hurled his staff directly for Stephen's head.

The energy shield quivered but held. Stephen felt righteous anger rise up in an uncontrollable wave. Enough of this.

Stephen grabbed Mordo's staff with his free hand. Using all of his physical strength and energy, he pushed forward, butting the older sorcerer in the face. But Stephen refused to stop. Another strike, and Mordo's nose spurted blood. Yet another, and Mordo's eyes rolled back.

Mordo fell. This time his boots failed to catch him.

Stephen stared down at his former teacher lying defenseless on the floor of the atrium. Regret pulled at his gut. The first rule of being a doctor was _Do no harm_ , but he'd had to break that particular rule far too many times of late. He didn't mind when it was against a dark interstellar or multidimensional being. Those particular foes made it their mission to harm innocents on Earth. But when the enemy you were fighting was once a former friend, well, that flavor of guilt leeches into your gut and refuses to let go.

Stephen floated down to land next to Mordo.

Mordo glared up at him. "Well done."

"I had a good teacher."

"That you did."

Stephen sighed. "This is pointless, Mordo. Why did you attack the Sanctum?"

"I did not attack the Sanctum, Stephen. _You_ did, once you decided to begin training your students."

Stephen threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not training anyone, Mordo."

"No?" Mordo nodded to Stephen's belt. "I see two sling rings."

"Yeah, well, I thought it'd be nice to have a set."

Mordo laughed, blood caking over his lips. "You always were a bad liar."

"Where did you put Joanna?"

Mordo didn't reply.

 _"Where is she?_

"If you tell me where you're housing your pupils, then I will tell you where I placed her."

Stephen shook his head. "You've lost your mind, you know that? Are you getting bored being a ronin sorcerer? Did you have nothing better to do today than ruin a woman's life _and_ ruin my dinner?"

Stephen grew angrier as he spoke. "Someone unleashed a torrent of dark spells throughout the Sanctum, and since you're the only sorcerer here besides me, it had to be you. I want to know why."

Those dark spells were the reason Stephen had fled from the kitchen, why the cloak had rushed to his aide. Specific spots inside the Sanctum had begun radiating black magic, something that hadn't happened since the Sanctum had been given a Kamar-Taj caretaker courtesy of the Ancient One. His first thought was that the Dark Gem had somehow escaped its prison because of Joanna's presence, and was manifesting power at specific points in order to open a gateway to the Dark Dimension. That was why he had ordered Joanna to remain downstairs. Who knew how she might indirectly influence the gem if she were present?

Stephen had traveled directly to the Dark Gem's case, but the stone merely sat silent behind the glass. He made a vow to himself to check everything out in more detail later, and then had gone from floor to floor vanquishing the black magic inside the Sanctum before the spells could do any permanent damage.

He was on the third floor, next to the relics, when Mordo came up from behind and attacked. His former instructor had thrown him into a glass case housing the lightning rod of Benjamin Franklin. Glass had rained down around Stephen. He'd cried out but hadn't been cut.

Stephen then went on the offensive. He formed duplicate Tao Mandalas shields, using the hard edges to knock Mordo over the banister. His old teacher had cursed as he'd fallen. Before Mordo could do any more damage, Stephen had raced to the second floor to erase the last spell created by black magic, hoping that by breaking their hold it would tear Mordo away from the Sanctum for good.

That's when he'd heard Mordo speaking in the atrium and realized Joanna was in danger.

He'd rushed to the first floor, shouting Mordo's name in hopes of distracting him from her, but it had been too late. His heart sank when he saw Mordo shove her through a dimensional portal to some frigid arctic location. She'd die of exposure if he didn't find her, and soon.

Mordo tried to get up from his prone position on the floor. Stephen shoved him back down with his foot. Mordo narrowed his eyes but acquiesced, at least for now. Stephen could see Mordo's wounds had already begun healing.

"Uncontrollable dark energy is coming off of New York in waves," Mordo said.

"You don't say."

Mordo glared up at him. "I've been tracking it. This Sanctum is the source. I know you would never be so clumsy, but pupils? Especially under your tutelage..?"

Stephen tried not to take offense at that. "Except I'm training no one."

"Then we have no quarrel."

Before Stephen could think up a pithy retort, Mordo vanished right underneath his feet.

Stephen staggered backward, stunned. No gateway had appeared, no magic had been used. The man had simply disappeared.

"Mordo?" His cry bounced off the walls of the Sanctum. _"Mordo?"_

Nothing.

Stephen opened a gateway to the Mirror Verse and stepped cautiously inside, ready for a trap. Mordo had to be here. His mind sharpened, ready to hear the slightest disturbance. His body tensed. But there wasn't anyone else inside. Mordo was gone. Stephen came back through to the real world, shaking his head.

The Cloak of Levitation snapped her hem at him.

"What?"

She snapped it again, pulling him toward the stairs.

"Christ! Joanna..."

Thoughts of Mordo would have to wait.

Stephen raced up to his bedroom on the second floor. There, past his desk piled high with books near the east facing window, was the Caldron of the Cosmos. Stephen had spent hours gazing into its depths, discovering various secrets of the universe. He'd learned just as much from the cauldron as he had from the Ancient One's texts he'd "borrowed" from Wong's library.

"Time to earn your keep," Stephen said, looking down inside of the caldron. "Where is Joanna?"

Unfortunately, the cauldron wasn't some gypsy's crystal ball. This was an ancient relic with a mind of its own. And the caldron chose silence.

Stephen banged on the edge of the metal rim. "I saw trees and snow inside the gateway Mordo created. He said he sent her somewhere on Bleecker Street, but it has to be in the past or the future, possibly an alternative timeline. Show me something. Anything!"

The cauldron remained asleep.

Stephen bit back a curse. _Think, Stephen. And make it fast. Joanna is running out of time._

Every fact he knew about various dimensions filtered through his brain. He ran through different options, but kept coming back to the obvious choice. Mordo was tied to Earth, had never relished tinkering with parallel universes, even in practice. Joanna was on Bleecker Street, he had said. But where?

History had always been a fun hobby of Stephen's in school. He'd considered it a game to memorize as many facts and figures as possible in order to get the highest grades in his classes, just to piss off all the liberal arts majors when he was an undergraduate. He closed his eyes and saw a paragraph from an old American history textbook in his mind.

"Okay. Let's assume Joanna is within our own timeline. Hudson started exploring New York in 1609, but colonization didn't begin until 1624 with the Dutch. There was no sign of colonization inside the portal before it sealed, so he must have sent her somewhere in time before that…"

Stephen growled in frustration. He wanted to bang his head against a wall. Joanna could be anywhere in time before the seventeenth century. She could be stuck centuries, if not millennia, in the past. Hell, she could even be in New York right after the last Ice Age. Not during the Ice Age, though. He'd seen trees, not evidence of the glacier that had covered the city. She could even be in the future if there was some kind of nuclear holocaust decades from now. It was hopeless.

 _Don't give up on me._ The words from the future Joanna inside the Mirror of Morgan le Fay tore at him.

 _"Think_ , Stephen. This is Mordo. He conjured the gateway within a matter of seconds, so he threw her someplace tied to his psyche."

Stephen began to pace. "What do you know about Mordo? He came to the Kamar-Taj to learn how to defeat his enemies. Now he wants to rid the world of sorcerers because, somehow, now _that's_ a thing…"

Stephen stopped. Took a deep breath. He knew he had to focus, but in the back of his mind all he could see was Joanna shivering with hypothermia, getting the first signs of frostbite, freezing to death…

He shook his head. Mordo had always been a man focused on the present, but he hadn't sent Joanna there. Could he have sent her into the future? He seemed pretty adamant about creating a future without more sorcerers…

Stephen opened up a gateway one hundred years in the future. He stepped through…

… and almost had his head taken off by an object flying directly above him. The robotic squawk the object made as it tried to halt sounded like a metallic scream. He shut the gateway before it could enter the Sanctum.

"That was stupid, Stephen," he chastised himself. He couldn't simply open up gateways inside every century. New York City and this Sanctum might still be a hub of supernatural power, but regardless…

Wait.

The Sanctum Santorum was built on supernatural energies, some of them dark energies. The first people to discover this were from the Lenape tribe, well before Europeans settled this land.

Mordo wanted to end sorcery, so he wouldn't send Joanna any place where she could draw on its power. Which meant she wasn't stuck in the future where she could either find someone to help her or absorb the ancient magic from Bleecker Street.

She was in the past. She had to be. And it was a past from well before any magical properties had manifested here on the grounds of the Sanctum. Stephen ran the calculations in his head. The probabilities unfolded.

"The last Ice Age covered New York in glaciers. After the glaciers receded, water covered the New York area until about 6,000 years ago. Spruce trees were the first to form, then pine… Wait... That's right. I saw pine trees. I also saw snow, but no cut trees or evidence of the Lenape tribe…"

At last the cauldron awoke. Purple mist hovered over the surface. Stephen ran to the edge.

" _Now_ you wake up?"

The caldron's purple mist poured out into the room, blocking Stephen's view inside its depths. He waved the mist away. Darkness was the only vision he saw inside the cauldron.

"Gee, thanks for all your help," Stephen said dryly. "I wake you up to find _one woman_. Not the origin of space and time, or tonight's winning lottery numbers, but one solitary woman, and _this_ is what you show me?"

From somewhere deep inside the blackness, Stephen heard a wolf howl. Then a woman's cough. Cold air blew against Stephen's face in breath-stealing gusts.

"Oh. Right. Um… I guess thanks are in order."

This was where Joanna was then. And it was the dead of night there. No light at all came from inside the cauldron. He had been right. It was sometime in the past, well before electricity.

Stephen inhaled deeply. "Here we go."

He harnessed every wayward thought to concentrate on Joanna. Every emotion he had when he thought of her, everything he'd gleaned from the Book of Cagliostro, became a focal point in his mind. Stephen visualized what the cauldron had shown him, on that exact place, in a time before people, before magic. He imagined the treeline and snow he'd only briefly glimpsed from Mordo's gateway prior to Joanna being shut inside.

"I hope this works…"

Stephen exhaled his apprehension. He waved his hands, forming the spell…

… And stepped through the gateway.


	14. Chapter 13

-0-0-0-

"Joanna?"

Stephen called out her name in the absolute darkness of New York after the last Ice Age. The air was bitter cold, though not nearly as bad as, say, the top of the Himalayas. He took a step further into the frigid night. Snow crunched under his boots. He took another bold step and almost banged his head on a tree branch. The Cloak of Levitation snapped at his neck, clearly irritated at being pelted with snow.

"Joanna!"

From somewhere close by, a wolf howled.

Stephen raised his hands and whispered the spell for illumination. A soft wave of Eldritch energy appeared around him, lighting the terrain. No wolves in sight, though a second howl answered the first.

He glanced down and saw no footprints in the snow. He frowned and turned one-eighty degrees to confirm his suspicions. Either snowfall over the last hours had erased Joanna's footprints, or she had never been here to begin with. But from the sounds he'd heard from the Cauldron of the Cosmos he didn't believe that.

"If you can hear me, Joanna, say something."

Stephen knew he was running out of time. He'd only been in this place for a few minutes, and already he couldn't stop shaking. He kept the Eldritch wave lit above him and calmed his mind. Another human spirit was nearby. He could feel its aura radiating vitality. He reached for an identity and felt Joanna's personality within its center. He had expected her aura to be weak, considering this environment, but instead it pulsed with strength. That surprised him. Joanna could have easily given up, decided that life was no longer worth living, but she hadn't. She was fighting to survive.

He closed his eyes and absorbed the power from her aura, focusing on its specific location…

There. About twenty feet or so, slightly to the left but almost directly in front of him.

He moved as quickly as he could, getting stuck in a snowdrift when the terrain changed to a slight incline. He shifted his stance and shook the snow from his jeans. He couldn't imagine being stuck in a place like this for hours without anything to insulate him from the cold, without a sling ring, without hope. His respect for Joanna went up several notches.

Stephen reached the place where her aura burned brightest and stood within inches of the centrum. He widened the wave of energy above him to see better, but there was nothing in front of him now but a huge evergreen tree.

"Joanna?"

A soft moan sounded from somewhere beneath him.

Stephen raised his voice and summoned a more intense spell for illumination. The forest lit up like a golden rainbow around him. He gazed at his surroundings, memorizing everything to find the source of that feminine moan. His eyes fell to a pile of coniferous tree branches that had been stacked in orderly rows, definitely manmade, to provide shelter from the falling snow.

Stephen ripped away the branches from the trunk of the giant tree in front of him, careful to aim the condensed snow on its needles away from the base of the trunk. The Cloak of Levitation shuddered against him but didn't protest. Underneath mounds of branches, many of which had collapsed under the weight of condensed snow, Joanna lay curled in a tight ball.

She wasn't moving.

"Joanna?" He knelt next to her, reaching to find a pulse. Her heartbeat was irregular and slow. Too slow.

He lifted her in his arms, careful to keep her body from hitting the branches of the trees. Her clothes were completely soaked through. Her skin felt clammy against his fingers.

"Stay with me, Joanna." It was both a plea and a mantra, broken only by Stephen summoning a spell to create a portal back inside the Sanctum.

It wasn't until Stephen had laid Joanna down on her bed in the Shangri-La room that he realized how serious her hypothermia was. Not life-threatening, but getting dangerously close by the minute. She wasn't shivering, which was a bad sign. Her skin was white, and even though she mumbled when he tried to rouse her, her words were incoherent. She wasn't in a coma, but he had to handle her carefully. He didn't want her to go into cardiac arrest.

It had been years since Stephen had received basic instruction on hypothermia. After all, most brain surgeries don't involve hypothermic patients, but he knew the signs. Her core body temperature was below ninety degrees Fahrenheit and would continue to drop as long as she remained cold. Her wet clothes should be removed immediately, but he found himself hesitating.

The Cloak of Levitation fell from his shoulders and fled out of the bedroom.

"Bring blankets!" Stephen called after it, hoping the cloak had not only heard his instructions but could actually carry the load he'd need to help her.

He took a deep breath. Then, as if transported back to his early years working at New York Hospital, Stephen began to save Joanna's life.

As he removed her wet clothes, he ran various options through his mind. There were only two. One was to undress and wrap Joanna as best he could and use a gateway to transport them both to New York Hospital. But if Christine wasn't working, he'd be dismissed by staff back to the overflow waiting room inside the E.R. like any other patron, losing critical minutes. And because he'd be carrying a hypothermic patient in the middle of summer, he'd probably be forced to fill out a police report. If Christine was working, then that created a whole different set of problems, the least of which would be an explanation. _Good to see you, Christine. This is Joanna, my first potential student in the mystic arts. She and I are just friends, acquaintances really, but she got transported back in time to the end of the last ice age by another sorcerer, and I had to take her drenched clothes off before she died from hypothermia. You know how it goes. By the way, how are you?_ Even though he and Christine had been just friends for years now, the last thing he wanted was an awkward interlude with his ex. His only other option was to save Joanna himself.

He shivered as he worked, noting his own body temperature was far from ideal, but at least the shivering was a good sign his core was slowly returning to a normal temperature. He ignored the discomfort seeping through his damp jeans and shirt as he focused on Joanna. Every time he removed an article of her wet clothing, he immediately placed the thin velvet comforter, the heaviest blanket on the bed, around her exposed body. He worked quickly, no longer seeing Joanna as a potential student or possible lover at some point later in his timeline, but as a patient desperately in need to immediate care. He was in his element, a role he found reassuring if not invigorating. Saving a life was as natural to him as breathing.

The cloak appeared with an impressive pile of blankets as he finished peeling away the last of Joanna's drenched clothing. None of the blankets the cloak deposited on the bed was a thermal one.

"Isn't there an emergency blanket somewhere?" he asked.

The cloak hovered near the bed, completely still.

"You know, a first-aid blanket? One made to retain heat?"

The cloak lowered her collar, as if ashamed. She shook her neckline.

He grumbled as he wrapped Joanna up in the warmest blankets the cloak had dropped. "How about a blanket with an electrical cord?"

Another slight shake of her collar.

Stephen sighed. "Fine."

He considered creating a spell to warm Joanna from the inside out, but didn't dare take the risk. If her core temperature rose too rapidly, she could go into shock. A hot bath was out of the question for precisely the same reason. He settled for enchanting the temperature of the room to rise a small percentage of a degree every few minutes before removing his own shirt and jeans.

The cloak remained where she was.

He glanced over at the cloak with resignation. "Have you got a better idea?"

Another slight shake of her collar.

"Then, do you mind?"

The cloak floated out of the room as Stephen wrapped himself inside the last blanket. With another sigh, he lifted Joanna and placed her under the sheets on the bed before climbing under the covers to join her. He shook as he wrapped his arms around Joanna's freezing body.

Whenever Stephen used to watch movies or television shows illustrating this basic treatment of hypothermia, it had always made him chuckle. Writers seemed to love the trope, and overused it to try and force emotional intimacy between characters through physical contact. Why they went through all that trouble instead of just having them go out to dinner or something confounded Stephen. In real life, a healthy couple sharing bodily warmth might enjoy that kind of physical intimacy, but not in the case of hypothermia. In real life, hypothermic patients were cold and clammy, and the experience was far from erotic. In fact, as the tingling sensations burned through his extremities, the sensation of being warmed by another human being bordered on discomfort. And he had only suffered the very early stages of hypothermia. He could only imagine what Joanna would feel when she regained consciousness.

He did a quick check of Joanna's pulse. It beat slow but regular now. Another assessment found her breathing to be even. He pulled her hands against his core, flinching from the icy cold of her skin. Her fingers were sticky with sap and smelled of pine. Down by her feet, he did his best to place his legs around them, wrapping them in his warmth despite his own pain. Her hair was still damp. He removed one of his hands from the middle of her spine and placed it against the back of her head as he held her to him. Wrapping her head in a blanket would do little to hasten her recovery. The theory that the head lost up to fifty percent of body heat was a myth disproven by the medical community years ago. Every part of Joanna would need to be equally warmed, and it would take hours.

Stephen closed his eyes. He hoped he had done the right thing. If he had misjudged the severity of Joanna's hypothermia, then Stephen knew he had just made the biggest medical miscalculation of his life.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N—Thanks for reading, everyone. And many, many thanks for all the kind reviews! Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

-0-0-0-

Violent shivering woke Joanna. It felt like her body was having an earthquake. She tried to control it, but it was no use. Shudders racked her body. Next to her was blessed warmth, and she pressed herself against it, clinging to the source like a lifeline.

She couldn't remember leaving that god-awful forest. Of course, she didn't remember much of anything after night had fallen around her miserable shelter. She recalled lots of foreign noises and animal cries. Those, and the sheer terror of the pitch-black night were among the highlights of her stay. She'd eventually drifted off into a restless sleep complete with disturbing dreams of being trapped inside a vast darkness, flashes of color exploding around her, and a petite but powerful woman without any hair stealing her away from her mother as she wept…

Her mind shook off the remnants of that dream, and she came back to the present. She realized then that her source of heat was a naked man. Well, _almost_ naked. Her head snapped up, and she accidentally clocked the man right in the jaw with her head.

"Ow," the man said, but he didn't move to rub his jaw. "I might need dental work if you do that again. And I'm not board certified for that."

Stephen.

A part of Joanna wanted to melt away in embarrassment, but the sensible part retained the memories of the total and mind numbing cold she'd suffered inside the portal. Another shudder overtook her, and she moved closer to him despite her pride. If she was being completely honest with herself, she would have welcomed warmth from anyone, even if the man holding her was currently at the top of the FBI's Most Wanted List.

"I… can't b-believe…you… found me." Her teeth chattered as she spoke. She clenched them together, fighting against the shaking.

"It wasn't easy."

She believed him. "And it was n-nice of you to wrap me up…"

Joanna stopped. Gratitude overwhelmed her. He could have simply removed all of her clothes and left her exposed against him, or even worse, taken her to some emergency room where strangers would have poked and prodded her while she slept. But this man, this doctor, had prevented her from dying of hypothermia, all while keeping her modesty intact. "Th-thank you for saving my life."

"You're welcome."

"And f-for keeping on your underwear. That was a n-nice touch."

"They were dry," he said matter-of-factly. "But all wet clothing had to be removed. It sucks heat away from the body. Speaking of which, how do you feel?" His voice had the hallmark of a doctor inquiring of his patient.

"C-cold."

"You feel cold?" He sounded relieved. "Not numb?"

"I'm f-freezing and my s-skin feels like it's burning."

"Believe it or not, that's a good thing. It means the nerve endings in your body are coming back online, so to speak." Stephen shifted, and his hands trembling against her back, the same tiny tremors she'd noticed yesterday when he'd held her hand.

Yesterday… Had it only been one day since she'd come here? It felt like weeks. She'd seen and experienced so much...

"Will your hands ever stop s-shaking?" Joanna blurted out her question before she could stop herself.

Stephen didn't answer, and she thought she'd offended him. She was all set to apologize, when he said, "I don't think so, no."

Again, an apology was on the edge of her lips when Stephen said, "I had a chance to heal myself. I chose to serve humanity as Sorcerer Supreme instead."

"Sorcerer Supreme?"

She could practically hear his smile. "Sounds self-important, doesn't it?"

"Just a bit." She'd said it in a tone that was part honest appraisal, part dry humor.

As she'd hoped, it made Stephen chuckle. Positioned against the hard muscles of his chest, his soft laughter vibrated against her cheek, her hands. She shuddered again.

Quiet fell over them as they huddled together under what must have been a mountain of blankets. Joanna tried not to think about how weird it felt being this familiar with him. Yesterday she would've jerked herself away and found any excuse to leave, but something had changed as she'd struggled to survive inside that freezing forest. Her deep-seeded insecurities had seemed so miniscule in comparison to the gift of simply being alive. And as she'd wrestled against death, she had confronted her deepest fears. She'd given a lot of power to some pretty miserable people in her life over the years: former foster dads, Paul, and so many others. Each had enjoyed preying on her weaknesses.

But no longer. She'd experienced an epiphany while waiting to die in that merciless place, and she made a decision in those dark moments that, if she lived, she was going to take control of her life. And use what gifts she had to help others as well as herself.

Stephen cleared his throat. "Look, if you want to talk about what happened inside that gateway…"

Joanna smiled. Whatever had happened to Stephen right before dinner last night, whatever cool demeanor he had displayed, it was gone now. His words were tender, said with the same kindness she had come to expect from her new friend. "It sucked."

Another chuckle. "I don't doubt it. How long were you there?"

"Hours. The sun was starting to set when I arrived, and it was night when I fell asleep."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"I thought you were dead." She closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall.

He didn't reply, but his fingers caressed slow, comforting rotations against her back. Joanna fidgeted, nervous Stephen might take this encounter to a place she didn't want it to go.

Without waiting for him to respond, Joanna raised her arm and grasped the top edge of the blankets. With tentative hands, she pulled back the covers. The sheets stuck to the tree sap still thick on her fingertips.

She blinked against the light from a nearby stained-glass lamp. She was in the Shangri-La room. Her room, not Stephen's, and inside her own bed, not his. The air in the room, though far warmer than it had been yesterday, felt like a blast of frigidity compared to the thick heat underneath the blankets. Her body shook, and she felt Stephen's arms tighten around her. Her teeth started to chatter again.

"Don't read into this," he said, "but you really should stay warm until the shaking subsides."

She retreated back inside the blankets, frustrated with her weakness. As his hands rested on her back, she felt the sling ring attached to his knuckles scrap gently against her spine.

"You're still wearing a sling ring."

"Always good to be prepared."

"While I was gone inside that portal, did…" She swallowed. "That man who attacked me. Did you…" She wanted to say "kill him," but that felt like a cruel accusation. So she waited.

"Mordo and I fought, and I tried to get him to tell me where he'd placed you, but he disappeared into thin air. I have no idea where he went."

"That's… good, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. He used some kind of dimensional magic I've never seen or even read about before. Which means I need to research."

"He wanted to kill me." She quivered. "I could see it in his eyes."

"Mordo thought I was training students in the mystic arts. When you and I were downstairs in the kitchen, something happened. I felt black magic erupt at vital points throughout the Sanctum. Mordo felt it, too, and came to find out why. That's why I left you."

"And the two of you had to attack each other? You couldn't just talk about it?"

"Talking things out really isn't Mordo's style…"

"The black magic you felt wasn't that dark crystal thing going crazy, was it?" Joanna asked.

"No. I checked the Dark Gem."

"Maybe Mordo did those spells just to distract you."

"He says he didn't."

"And you _believed_ him? That asshole almost killed me!"

Stephen grew quiet, and Joanna thought she might have offended him yet again. After all, how many sorcerers could there be in the world? Maybe Stephen and that jerk had been best friends once. She was about to apologize, but then she heard Stephen whisper. "If you had been wearing a sling ring, or had tried to fight back with even an ounce of training, Mordo _would have_ killed you. He believes sorcerers are too dangerous, that they pose a threat to the world."

Now it was Joanna's turn to become quiet. She absorbed his words the way her body absorbed his warmth. In a way, she understood where this Mordo guy was coming from. The power Stephen had was incredible, and in the wrong hands…

"I feel guilty," Stephen admitted. "If he had killed you, it would have been my fault."

"No, it would have been Mordo's."

His hand stroked her hair in answer.

She yawned, closed her eyes, and slept.

When Joanna woke up, she found herself still under the heap of blankets but this time, she was alone. Her shivering had stopped, and she actually felt warm. She stretched her limbs, disturbing the covers, and a rich musky scent left over from Stephen sharing the bed wafted over her. She breathed it in, and tried not to think about how it made her feel.

She lifted her head from the top of the blanket. She was alone in the Shangri-La room. Not even the Cloak of Levitation was here. While the air still felt cooler compared to the humidity underneath the blankets, Joanna now welcomed the difference in temperature. She wondered if that meant she was fully recovered from her ordeal.

Slowly, Joanna crept out from underneath the covers. She kept the velvet blanket around her body as she searched for some dry clothes. She hadn't unpacked her suitcase from the day before, and rummaging through her wrinkled summer wardrobe depressed her. Her only pair of jeans lay across a chair. She touched the denim, still damp from her ordeal, and found tree sap sticking to her fingers. A few evergreen needles clung to her hair. She decided a shower was in order and stayed under the hot spray until the water grew cool.

As soon as she exited the bathroom, her body started shaking. She dressed quickly, settling on a pair of khaki shorts and another short-sleeved shirt. The heaviest blanket draped on her bed became a temporary coat. She wrapped it around her shoulders and went to look for Stephen.

She descended to the first floor, passed the empty library, and proceeded down the hidden flight of stairs where this whole mess had started. He wasn't in the kitchen, though Joanna noticed dirty dishes in the sink. She grinned. At least he'd eaten something since yesterday. She opened one of the refrigerators and polished off an apple before heading to the third floor.

Stephen wasn't meditating near the window with the seal, and he wasn't near the relics either. It was so peaceful up here. Joanna could see why he favored this spot. She strolled through the aisles of magical antiques, past the dead mirror that reflected nothing, and noticed a broken case that housed some kind of wire rod, Benjamin Franklin's, if she remembered correctly. Though what a lightning rod had to do with magic, she had no idea. Someone had swept up the broken glass, though. Only tiny shards remained inside the case.

Joanna traipsed back to the second floor. A light was on in Stephen's bedroom. While she hated to disturb him, she had to. It was time.

"Come on in, Joanna," Stephen said before she could get close enough to knock.

Would she ever get used to living with someone who could sense damn near _everything_?

Joanna slid open the door. His room was enormous. Star charts and ancient maps crowded the walls. Windows looking out onto the New York morning were centered on every wall, outlining all four cardinal direction. Joanna didn't know how such a thing was possible since his room shared at least one solid wall with the bedroom next door. Rows of books spilled over from shelves with symbols carved onto the wooden sides. Dead center in the room was a black cauldron. Stephen's bed, the only piece of normal furniture, waited off to one side as if its existence was a mere after-thought for its occupant.

"I feel like I just stepped into Hogwarts," she said.

Stephen laughed. "It's the Cauldron of the Cosmos, isn't it?"

"The Cauldron of the…" Joanna stared at the black cauldron and shook her head. "I won't ask."

Stephen closed the journal he'd been writing in, a brown leather book that looked like it'd been plucked from the eighteenth century. He put down the elegant ballpoint pen he'd been using to write with, and Joanna smiled at the contrast between the worn leather of the cover and the modern writing utensil.

"What are you writing?" she asked.

"I'm journaling my recent experiences."

"Am I in there?"

"Everything unusual that's happened in the last forty-eight hours has been recorded. And you're a part of that." He placed the journal back in an upper shelf on his desk.

"You ever record spells in that thing?"

"Sometimes."

"It doesn't even have a lock. Aren't you afraid someone will pick it up and read it?"

He didn't answer. He just smiled.

Joanna longed to explore all the books, especially the journal. She wanted to gaze out of the windows and see if they really showed modern-day New York. Heck, she even wanted to look inside that creepy looking cauldron. But bedrooms were sacred spaces, so she stayed where she was.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

She nodded, pulling her blanket closer around her body. "I think so."

"I'd like to take your temperature, if you don't mind."

She almost laughed out loud. All of this power, and her health was still reduced down to a thermometer. "Sure."

He got up from his chair. She noticed he wore normal clothes again, slacks and a plain shirt. He moved to get past her, but Joanna blocked his way.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said.

Stephen grew still, and even though Joanna had no magical gifts, she knew he anticipated the worst.

"I've been thinking," she began. "About everything I've seen, and especially about Mordo."

Stephen's head bowed slightly, as if in defeat. "I understand, Joanna. You almost died yesterday. I don't want to put you or anyone else at risk. I respect your decision, and I'll form a gateway to take you anywhere you want to go."

"You misunderstand me." Joanna stared straight into his eyes. "I want to start my training in the mystic arts."

She took a deep breath. "And I want to start today."


	16. Chapter 15

-0-0-0-

"Get up, Joanna. Let's go again."

Joanna drew to her feet, flinching in pain. She'd only been training for a little over two weeks and already her internal organs were screaming. "Is it okay if I grab some water first?"

Stephen nodded. He turned his back to retrieve his own water from across the training room. It left him wide open for Joanna to attack. She kept him in her sights, not about to miss this opportunity. She crept toward him and leapt, but only got in one good strike before Stephen had her flat on her back.

He smiled down at her. "Nice try."

"Thanks."

"Are you ready for another round, or do you actually need to hydrate?"

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty thirsty."

He clasped Joanna's hand and helped her to her feet, but kept a suspicious eye her on her as she reached for her water bottle. Her lips curved around the lid as she drank. Revenge was sweet.

Training to be a sorcerer (and the correct term _was_ sorcerer, not "magician." Apparently, Stephen hated that term) was a lot harder than Joanna thought it would be. Not that she believed it would be a cakewalk, but she never realized it involved so much violence. She had imagined she'd whisper some words, wave her hands, and _voila!_ Dimensions would open, the universe would sing, and she would be able to fight back against any asshole sorcerers who decided to trespass into her new home.

But learning magic was nothing like that.

To be fair in her assessment, Joanna really hadn't learned much in the way of actual sorcery. What Stephen called the "mystic arts" involved more _martial_ arts than anything, at least from what she'd experienced so far. She'd spent weeks trying to master the basic techniques –- stances, throws, punches, and blocks - and she was pretty much terrible at all of it. Kinesthetic learning had never been her strong suit. After all, she'd almost flunked P.E. in middle school. And every move Stephen taught her drove home the point that she wouldn't stand a chance if Mordo ever showed back up again.

She downed the last of her water, frowning over the bottle.

"Still thirsty?" Stephen asked.

Fresh water slowly began to fill Joanna's bottle. Her jaw dropped to the floor. When the clear liquid reached the top, it stopped. She stared up at Stephen, speechless, before taking a tentative sip. It tasted wonderful.

"How…?" Words failed her.

"Magic." He smiled. "Willing to try something new?"

"Sure!" Joanna couldn't wait. At last she was going to learn real magic, and useful magic at that. Who wouldn't want instant refills?

But as she rose to her feet, she found Stephen standing across the training room, his hands gripping the bare handle of a headless ax.

Joanna raised an eyebrow. "Uh, why are you holding that?"

She didn't think Stephen could look any more pleased with himself, but she was wrong. A huge grin lit up his face. "It's time we added weapons to the mix."

Her eyes locked on his staff like it was a viper poised to strike. "Are you sure about this? Because I think I'm just going to end up whacking myself in the head."

"I'll be the one battling with the staff." Stephen twirled it through his dexterous hands. "You're going to counter my moves with what you've learned so far."

"With my bare hands?"

"That's right."

"Well, this won't last long," she muttered.

"Ready?"

"Before we start, I just thought you'd like to know that I now have the gift of psychic ability."

Stephen lowered his staff, taking the bait. "Really? What did you see?"

"I saw myself covered in bruises. Thanks to _that_." She nodded to his weapon.

He laughed out loud. Before Joanna could come up with another sarcastic response to this new challenge, Stephen charged right for her.

She managed to duck and roll away, avoiding the strike. She sensed him coming up from behind, and rolled again. Just in time, too. He slammed the staff into the floor where she'd been laying.

"Come on, Joanna. You can do better."

"Give me an ax with a blade, and maybe I'll finally be able to beat you."

"You think so?" Stephen held onto his staff as he strolled to a nearby wall and grabbed an ax. He came back to Joanna and handed her the heavy tool.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. You said you could best me with a real ax, so there you go."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is your wooden stick magic or something?"

"Nope. Just a plain old handle."

"And you really want _me_ to fight _you_ … with this?" She shook the ax in her hands.

He grinned. "If you can…"

She lifted the blade and swung. Stephen sidestepped easily, as if humoring a child. His hand gripped her wrist. With a single twist of his hand, Joanna gasped in pain and dropped her ax. The thick blade fell useless onto the training floor, as if echoing her disappointment. She stared down at the weapon, feeling weeks of frustration rise to the surface.

Stephen picked her ax up off of the floor. "Look, I know you don't understand why you're learning martial arts..."

She hung her head. "I'm trying my best. I really am, but it's no use. I'm just not good at this kind of stuff. It's not that I don't want to learn."

He nodded and walked the ax back to its hook along the far wall. "Believe it or not, there's a reason why we're doing this Joanna. You have to learn the physics of fighting on this physical plain before you can visualize how to create and manipulate energy to battle in the mystic one. Here, let me show you…"

He tossed his naked staff to her. She caught it quickly before it banged her in the face.

"Attack me, Joanna."

She didn't hesitate. She shot toward him, hoping to use her forward momentum to drive the staff into his chest before jerking it upward to smack him in the back of his head.

As she raced for him, Stephen lifted his hands and twisted his wrists. A brilliant golden braid of light formed between his hands. As soon as she got within striking distance, he pivoted. Instead of using his bare hands to grip her staff, he manipulated the intricate magical braid to rip the staff from her hands. Joanna's weapon bounced harmlessly against the mat, leaving her defenseless. Stephen dropped his hands, and the golden braid disappeared.

"Eldritch energy will one day take the place of using your body for defense. Or attack," he said. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. "So when can I start using real magic?"

Stephen didn't answer her. He left her side to return the wooden staff to its appropriate hook next to the row of battle-axes along the wall. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to be taking an awfully long time doing it.

Resentment rose inside Joanna. "Don't ignore my question. It must be time for me to learn _something_ about sorcery..."

"Time…" Stephen laughed softly to himself. "It's always about time."

He turned then, studying Joanna with that intense gaze of his that made her feel completely exposed. He strolled back to the center of the mat where she waited, never breaking eye contact.

"Joanna, when I first started using magic I was physically ill for three days. I couldn't stop throwing up. It took weeks before my body adjusted. And that was after months of training. You've had eighteen days."

Was he trying to protect her? "So, I'll get sick," she said. "Big deal. I'll have to cope with the effects sooner or later..."

He sighed. "I'll make a deal with you. Let's go one more round. No magic, no tricks. No weapons. Just hand-to-hand combat. I'll even hold back. And if you win, I'll teach you the basic spell for an Eldritch wheel. Deal?"

This probably was the best bargain she was going to get, at least for the time being. "Deal."

Joanna slid into a fighting stance, her hands loose in front of her core with her fingers facing out the way Stephen had shown her, though she had no idea why she didn't raise them into fists to protect her face like a boxer.

Stephen mirrored her stance, but didn't advance. He waited, observing her body the way he'd trained her to observe his, alert to clues as to how an opponent would attack.

Joanna forced her body to relax. She closed her eyes and felt something in the very air around her shift. Without thinking, she twisted away. She opened her eyes to find Stephen had attempted to swipe her legs out from under her but had missed.

"I thought you said you would go easy on me," she protested.

"I _am_ going easy on you."

Stephen's words still hung in the air when Joanna struck. She tried a roundhouse kick, but Stephen brushed it away as if swatting an insect. She went on the offensive yet again, this time with an elbow to his exposed torso.

But he was ready for her. He pivoted on his heel and struck her along her right side. Her ribs ached with pain, and she collapsed. He hadn't hit her hard, but after the beating she'd taken over the last couple of weeks, the blow stunned her.

He was by her side instantly. "Are you okay?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "I can keep going."

"No." He crossed his legs in front of her. "Teaching should never involve gratuitous pain. Here, let me have a look at you."

His touch was tender as he probed her side. She hissed as he pressed gently against her sore ribs. After more prodding, he let out a sigh of relief. "Nothing broken. Just some bruising."

"Can't you just heal me with magic?"

Stephen grew quiet, a state Joanna recognized as his contemplative one. She waited.

"I've certainly read enough about healing spells," he said carefully. "But I can't utilize that kind of power. I'm sorry."

"But you're a _doctor_."

"Ironic, isn't it?" He removed his hands from her side. "Magic can do remarkable things, Joanna. Incredible, miraculous things. It can bind elements to create compounds, like that fresh water in your bottle. It can protect or destroy, even kill. Magic can even manipulate time itself with the right relic."

Stephen took her hands in his, a gesture that wasn't lost on Joanna. He only touched her when he wanted to drive home a point. "But there is always a price to pay for using magic. And this is the price I've paid for mine. While other sorcerers can master the spells in order to heal themselves and others, I'm prevented from doing so."

"Maybe someday I'll be able to use magic to heal," Joanna said. "I could even heal your hands."

He smiled sadly as he rose to his feet.

"I'm ready, Stephen. I know I am."

"Nothing comes without sacrifice, Joanna. Are you really prepared to trade in everything you know for everything you don't know?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "I think so."

"We'll find out soon enough." He once again held out a hand to help her up. She grasped it and allowed him to pull her to her feet, conscious of the lovely bruises she would have along her side tomorrow.

"That's enough training for today," he said.

"But..."

He touched her face, and Joanna instantly quieted. "I need you to trust me. As your teacher. Please."

She closed her eyes and nodded. This was the closest Stephen had been to her since the night he'd rescued her from the icy forest. She wanted to tell him not to pull away, but the words lodged in her throat. Stephen lifted his hands from her cheeks, and her courage vanished along with their connection.

He was halfway out of the room before she opened her eyes again. "You hungry?" He called out from the stairs leading to the first floor.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll meet you downstairs in a minute."

"I'll get an ice pack ready."

Stephen descended the stairs. When his receding footsteps had faded, Joanna limped up to her favorite place in the Sanctum, the third floor, where the Chamber of Relics waited.

She never grew tired of the gazing at the relics. Each one had a history, a story behind it, just waiting to be discovered. Sometimes late at night when the Sanctum was silent and she couldn't sleep, she would come up here and lean in close to the glass, pressing her ear against the cool surfaces as if she could somehow hear their secrets if she listened long enough. They reminded her that magic was within her grasp as long as she didn't give up.

She trudged up the aisle, trying to find her new favorite relic, a free-spinning desk globe that emitted light and hummed different instrumental music depending on the country Joanna focused on.

The Cloak of Levitation floated nearby. Joanna smiled and nodded at it. The cloak appeared to nod back at her before darting down the stairs.

Joanna passed the Dark Gem. She didn't want to look at it, always tried her best to stay away from it, but of all the relics on this floor, this one seemed to call to her the loudest. She glanced over at the stone. Without even wanting to move toward it, Joanna found herself next to its case. Like so many times before, the stone grew black as pitch before flashing a sequence. It reminded her of Morse code, only with deep vibrations only she could hear. She placed her hands against the glass…

"Joanna."

She gasped and jumped a mile. Stephen stood behind her, leaning against an empty glass case atop an elaborate pedestal. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the Cloak of Levitation rested around his neck.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked him.

"Long enough."

She glared at the cloak now fastened around Stephen's neck. "Are you spying on me?"

The cloak fluttered its length ever-so-slightly in answer.

"Traitor."

The cloak seemed to collapse in on itself. Joanna watched with remorse as it drifted off of Stephen and down to the second floor.

"I asked her to keep an eye on you," Stephen said. "For your own protection."

"I can take care of myself."

"You owe her an apology."

Joanna sighed. After the last two weeks, she'd come to love that silly flying cape. There were days when she liked it far more than Stephen. "I'll tell her. I promise."

"Thank you." He uncrossed his arms and came toward her. Joanna noticed a dishtowel and ice pack in his hands.

Stephen motioned for her to sit. "You know, you probably shouldn't be up here without me," he said. "Not that I would try to stop you from exploring if you desired, but next time just let me know, and I'll come with you."

He sat down next to her and wrapped a towel around the ice pack. With a soft touch, he placed it against her ribs. She winced.

"What's inside the case?" Joanna nodded to the empty glass case he'd been standing next to.

"Nothing."

"No invisibility shield or something like that?"

"Nope. It used to be home to a very dangerous book called the Darkhold."

As if attuned to their conversation, the Dark Gem flashed at her. Even though it was located on the next aisle over, Joanna could feel its call. She tore her eyes away from Stephen as it flashed over and over again. Feeling guilty, she turned to observe Stephen's face. He said nothing, but she could tell by his expression he was disquieted by the gem.

"I sometimes come up here alone," she began.

"I know."

"I keep having these dreams…" She felt ridiculous even mentioned it. She took the ice pack from him and grunted as she pressed it against another throbbing muscle, hoping he'd take that as a cue to focus on her injuries and dismiss her words, but no.

Stephen leaned back on his heels. "What kind of dreams?"

"I'm in a dark place, but it's… beautiful, if that makes any sense. There are colors I've never seen before swirling all around me, and I feel so alive inside… " She took a deep breath. "A part of me feels like I should be scared, but another part of me welcomes being there…"

Joanna waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't. Instead he unwound his body from the floor and started pacing the aisle of the nearest relics, up and down, like an indecisive pendulum.

She panicked. What if he decided to stop training her? "Stephen?"

He kept pacing, as if the motion of his legs were driving his thoughts.

Desperation tumbled from Joanna's throat. "Stephen, please talk to me."

His steady gaze locked on her pleading one. "The dreams you're having are images from inside the Dark Dimension."

Now it was Joanna's turn to be speechless.

"Do you remember a year ago when the Dark Dimension opened over New York? Rhetorical question, I know. Of course you remember…"

He finally stopped moving, and Joanna wasn't sure if his sudden stillness was a good omen or a bad one.

"No one knows why the Dark Dimension opened," he said. "I made a deal with Dormammu that he would stay away from Earth, and then suddenly there he was, perched over the Empire State Building. Or at least his warped minions were pouring out from its portal. I never did find out why it happened. But you were there. And here you are again, Joanna, over a year later, and strange things keep happening all over the Sanctum. The Dark Gem comes alive, black spells manifest in precise locations of magical instability all around the Sanctum…

"You." His gaze was like a scythe, piercing her heart. "Right here, in the middle of everything, and I can't find out _how_ you fit into it all, but I know somehow it's all connected. Wong has his ideas. I have mine. But trying to decipher it is like a splinter in my mind."

Joanna had no idea what to say. Tears filled her eyes. She looked away from him, saw the Dark Gem glistening inside its case. When the tension grew too much to bear, Joanna finally blurted out. "What can I do?"

His eyes softened. "No more theories. I think that it's time we found out who you really are."


	17. Chapter 16

-0-0-0-

"Okay." Joanna's face relaxed, and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Relief flooded her body. "If finding out about my past can keep me studying sorcery, I'll do it."

Something crossed Stephen's face at her words, something that looked a lot like doubt.

Joanna felt her stomach drop. "I _can_ keep studying sorcery, right?"

"Let's hope so," he whispered.

Stephen reached for her ice pack. Joanna noticed that whenever things got too uncomfortable for him, he always leaned on the familiar, which in his case meant his medical prowess. But she wouldn't let him do it this time. She took a step back.

"I remember your theory about my past." Her tone was as dry as brittle autumn leaves. "I'm supposed to be from that dark dimension that killed my family, right? Have you ever considered that maybe all my dreams might be from the trauma I suffered the day my family died? I looked right up into that black hole. I saw everything that _thing_ did to this city… to my daughter." She swallowed hard. "And my dreams didn't start until that day."

"It was Wong's theory…"

"And do you _believe_ Wong's 'theory'?" Her voice was tight with accusation.

"I'm a doctor, Joanna. A scientist. I need to gather a lot more empirical evidence before I could even come close to a hypothesis as all-encompassing as Wong's."

Joanna nodded, feeling a bit better.

"But…"

She tensed. Of all the words in the English language, the word 'but' was her least favorite. "Have you ever noticed that everything before the word 'but' is a lie?" she asked. She could feel herself losing control as a mix of emotions tumbled through her. "What do I need to do to get you to teach me sorcery?" she whispered. "To trust me?"

"Joanna…" He stopped, as if uncertain of how to phrase his words. "There's a way I can find out exactly where you are from, who your parents are, everything."

"Really?" It sounded too good to be true. "Then, let's do it."

"The layman's term for it is a 'mind seek...'"

"Sounds like some sort of science fiction mind meld."

Joanna expected him to smile and respond with his usual witty humor, but he didn't. That made Joanna wary.

"Is it painful or… dangerous?" she asked.

"No, but it's not done often. I memorized it from the Book of Cagliostro, which contains the most powerful magic spells on the manipulation of time, some of which can border on the rebellious side of sorcery. To do a mind seek, I'd have to leave my physical form for the Astral Plain. Once there, I would be able to use my Astral Projection to go into your mind and sift through your memories, anywhere from your birth all the way to the present, deciphering all of your experiences and emotions."

"Ah." She had no idea what he'd meant by the Astral Plain, but she got the gist of it. He'd be able to browse her mind and feelings as easily as she could read a children's book. She couldn't imagine an act more private. Even having sex wasn't so intimate. At least Joanna could hide her feelings during _that_ act. "And what would I be doing while you're riffling through my mind?"

"You'd be asleep. In theory, you shouldn't feel a thing. Sorcerers used mind seeks to invade their enemies' thoughts while they slept back in the days when wars were won through mysticism instead of bombs."

"Maybe a mind seek _isn't_ the best idea… for now," she added hastily. She couldn't imagine being that vulnerable with anyone, even him.

"I understand." Stephen didn't sound upset at all, which made Joanna feel guilty.

"I mean, I'm not saying _no_ , but…"

"It's okay, Joanna. It was just an idea. And, for the record, Wong thought it was a bad one."

She wasn't a fan of Wong after the interrogation he'd forced her to suffer through, but maybe that discerning sorcerer had a point. Joanna felt torn. She would do anything to keep studying the mystic arts, to keep going…

As if reading her mind already, Stephen said, "I'm not disappointed. I just thought it might finally give us some clarity."

"And…" she took a deep breath. "If I _am_ from the Dark Dimension…"

"Then Wong has forbidden me to train you. And Mordo would feel the surge of dark magic here in the Sanctum and come back…"

"… To kill me," Joanna finished.

"Yes."

She bent down to adjust her ice pack, trying to buy time to think. All her life she'd felt unwanted, and now when she finally had a purpose it could be stolen away from her. It wasn't fair. "All I've wanted to know for years was about my real parents," she began. "Every adopted kid dreams about it, but I'm just not sure I want someone sorting through my memories to do it…"

She gestured to the Chamber of Relics all around her, the possibilities each represented. Unwanted tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of leaving.

"You're afraid you could have all this taken away from you," Stephen said.

She nodded. "I love it here."

"I'm glad."

Stephen motioned for her to hand him the ice pack. This time she handed it over. His hands brushed against her skin.

"I think we've managed to lessen the bruising," he said. "You don't want to keep ice on for too long."

As if sensing the soberness of her mood, Stephen pulled away. He seemed to retreat from too much emotion, at least from Joanna's perspective. Or maybe he was just retreating from her. It didn't matter, she told herself. She allowed him to take the ice pack away. Her ribs stayed blessedly numb, thanks to the lingering effects of the cold.

"You know," Stephen said. "If you aren't comfortable with a mind seek, there might be another way."

"Oh?"

"There's a scroll I could read to you."

Humor tugged at Joanna's lips. "I'm pretty sure I could read it for myself."

Stephen grinned. "I had no idea you could read Gaelic."

"Gaelic?" She swallowed. "Never mind."

"The scroll contains a journal entry of the Ancient One, about the day she was given the Dark Gem."

"The… Ancient One?" Joanna imagined a withered old woman about the age of Wong's grandmother, sitting atop of a faded cushion with rotting scrolls littered all around her.

"She was the Sorcerer Supreme before me. Her journals are housed inside the Kamar-Taj in Nepal. There's an open portal we can use on the first floor to enter the library. And if the journal doesn't jog a memory, I can always show you _my_ journal drawings and notes from my time inside the Dark Dimension. Even Wong wouldn't object to that."

Joanna hesitated. "Will Wong be in Nepal?"

"Hard to say. I haven't seen Wong since I began training you."

She couldn't suppress her smile. "Training me is a secret, isn't it?"

"Technically, but he knows me pretty well, so let's just say he won't be surprised to find out."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not run into him."

"I won't even let Wong speak to you unless you want him to."

Her smile widened. "My own personal bodyguard?"

"More like a mystical interpreter." He walked to the far end of the third floor, past the Chamber of Relics, and set her ice pack on a simple end table.

Joanna took a step toward him, then stopped. "If I do this… if you read the scroll and something comes back to me, or if one day I even allow you to do a mind seek, I want you to promise me something."

He titled his head, playfulness still rooted inside his eyes. "Okay…"

"I mean it." She locked eyes with him, and his jest vanished. "No matter what Wong tells you, or no matter what you find out about my past, promise me you won't stop teaching me sorcery."

The Cloak of Levitation drifted up from the stairs, as if shy about intruding. It floated next to Stephen but didn't attach herself to him. Stephen watched the cloak as hovered beside him. Then, for some reason, his eyes gravitated away from the cloak to focus on that deadened mirror relic. Indecision flashed across his features before his gaze focused back on Joanna. He nodded at her. "I swear on my life, I will teach you everything I know about the mystic arts as long as you're willing to learn."

Joanna blinked. "You don't have to swear on your _life_ for God's sake…"

"Yes, I do. Words have power. I'm making a vow to you, and I intend to keep it."

"Well then… thank you." Joanna turned to the Cloak of Levitation. "And I'm sorry for what I said to you. You're not a traitor, not at all. In fact, you're one of my only friends."

The cloak seemed pleased with that. She placed the bottom of her hem against Joanna's arm, patted it, and then positioned herself back on Stephen's shoulders.

"Shall we?" Stephen headed for the stairs to the first floor, the cloak now attached to him. He glanced back at Joanna, his eyes asking if she would join them.

Joanna took her time leaving the third floor. Wistfulness overwhelming her as she viewed the rows of relics, attempting to remember each and every detail. The Sanctum Sanctorum had become her home. If Wong was waiting for them in Nepal, he might insist Joanna be trained there, as Stephen had been trained. And what recourse would she have? Stephen had promised to teach her sorcery. He hadn't specified _where_.

She forced her mind to release her fear, as Stephen had taught her. She had to trust her teacher. But Joanna could feel the Dark Gem vibrating softly to her in its glass enclosure as she walked away.


	18. Chapter 17

-0-0-0-

Stephen escorted Joanna past the front door of the Sanctum and to their immediate right, where a heavy curtain and little else separated the public foyer from the enclosed atrium where the portal to the Kamar-Taj remained hidden. He wanted Joanna to enter the library of the Kamar-Taj before him. It would make a powerful statement to Wong if the librarian noticed Joanna first, plus leave no doubt as to what Stephen had decided in regards to training her in the mystic arts.

The heavy double doors opened automatically, and Stephen motioned for Joanna to walk through the invisible force field leading to the Kamar-Taj. He smiled to himself when his new pupil strolled through without a shred of fear. But as soon as Stephen stepped through behind her, he realized something was very wrong. In the rare instances when Stephen had used this doorway to enter the Kamar-Taj, he'd always felt a sense of peace. It perforated the atmosphere, its ambience of mystery and wisdom as tangible as the scent of fresh varnish. But this time when he arrived, Stephen found the aura inside the Kamar-Taj to be restless.

Far too restless.

It reminded Stephen of when Mordo had trespassed inside the Kamar-Taj after deciding the world had "too many sorcerers." Mordo had disturbed nothing material but had strolled through the sanctuary killing students who fought against him, one by one. Those who ran away, he let live as they abandoned their sling rings and traded their mystic lives for a physical one.

By the time Stephen had arrived it was too late. Mordo was gone, and corpses littered the stones of the training grounds. Men and women of all ages and ethnicities who fought Mordo had died. They must have known, in those moments, that the odds were stacked against them, but still they had made the choice to give their lives for something greater.

The youngest victim Stephen had found was a fifteen year-old girl from Liberia named Teta. She had trekked for years to come to the Kamar-Taj to escape the rape and death from her village, and had ended up sprawled on the stones, her lifeless body twisted in pain, her mouth agape as if asking Stephen why he hadn't gotten there in time to save her, to save all of them. It enraged Stephen just thinking about it.

"Where is everyone?" Joanna asked.

The absolute silence echoed her question back at him. "I don't know."

"Is Wong the only sorcerer who lives here?"

"No. His father Hamir divides his time between the Kamar-Taj and the Hong Kong Sanctum, which means Wong divides his time as well."

"So, Wong could be visiting him?"

"In theory."

If Mordo had shown up here, Wong might be trapped inside another dimension or timeline just as Joanna had been, assuming Mordo decided to Wong live. Then again, Wong could simply be at the London Sanctum having tea. Stephen stepped further inside, his body as fretful as his thoughts.

The library felt like an empty tomb without any spiritual presence from other sorcerers or students. Even with the soft lamps still glowing from various wooden desks around the massive bookshelves, the space felt darker than when he'd last been here. He glanced back to the closed portals leading to the London and Hong Kong Sanctums, and reached out with his mind to test their seals. They remained intact.

So, why did he feel so anxious?

Joanna didn't seem to reflect his anxiety. She wandered the library yet stayed within eyesight of him. Her fingertips caressed the ageless spines of the books the way he had once done all those years ago.

"How many of these books are in English?" she asked.

"Not many. Only the novice texts are translated into a variety of languages."

Stephen marched to the master section of the library that contained the Ancient One's collection. He sucked in his breath. The Ancient One's collection stood empty. With the exception of the books of Vishanti and Cagliostro, which he kept in his room at the Sanctum, every other book was gone.

Joanna felt his trepidation then. "What's wrong?"

"The entire master section of spell books is gone."

"Stolen?"

Terror seized Stephen. If the master collection of books had been stolen, then…

Without a shred of hesitation, he raced straight to the Mystic's Chest where Wong had locked away the Eye of Agamotto since Mordo had defected from the mystic arts. The chest was sealed by sophisticated spells only Wong and Stephen could cast. It took several minutes, but the chest finally opened. The Eye wasn't there.

He slammed the chest shut.

"Stephen?"

He could hear the alarm in Joanna's voice, could sense her need for him to be composed. He steadied his emotions as his eyes moved to the invisible gateway guarding the Ancient One's study.

She edged closer to him, staring at the wall, then back at him. "There's something behind that wall, isn't there?"

"Hopefully." Stephen stepped up to the bricks, and recreated the spell Wong had done weeks ago. Two turns to create the Eldritch square. One turn to envision the door and form its pathway. Three to create the lock. He reached his hand inside, and twisted the handle. The hidden door opened.

"Very cool," Joanna breathed.

She didn't have the same encouraging words for him once they were inside the small alcove however. Every scroll had vanished.

"I don't understand." Stephen spun around, gawking at the empty shelves as if he could miraculously construct the ancient writings out of thin air. "Why would Mordo want to steal books and scrolls on sorcery?"

"Maybe he doesn't want any knowledge available about the mystic arts? I mean, if all the books are gone, no one can be taught sorcery right?"

"Maybe." Could Mordo have destroyed every single one of them? Stephen shuddered at the thought of all that knowledge lost from the Earth. He ran his index finger over the nearest quill. The feather ruffled at his touch. "But why take journals of the Ancient One?"

"Maybe he thought he could use her experiences as an advantage."

His pupil had a point, but it didn't seem like Mordo. He lifted his head to reply to her comment, but stopped mid-breath. Joanna no longer paid any attention to him but instead appeared focused on something or someone outside the antechamber. She stiffened, and her hands went to the center of her body, where her qi lay, palms out in a defensive stance.

He was by her side immediately. "Joanna?"

"I…" she stuttered. "There's something in the library. I can feel its energy."

"Mordo," Stephen muttered, angry spewing from his voice. He moved next to Joanna and with a soft word and a flick of his hands, Stephen created an Eldritch chain around his own wrist. He faced her and wound the other end of the energy bracelet around her wrist, sealing them together.

Joanna grabbed the golden links, yanking as hard as she could. The golden chain clamped around her. "It's stronger than handcuffs."

"Much stronger." He moved forward. "This way we'll stay bound together in case we're attacked." He managed a smile. "Wouldn't want you to get thrown into any more portals."

"Is Mordo really here?"

The truth was Stephen couldn't sense _anyone_ inside the library, but he trusted Joanna's instincts. He remembered how Mordo had vanished beneath his boot without using any spells or portals. Maybe Mordo was now incorporating the same vanishing act to appear inside the Kamar-Taj, but Stephen had his doubts. Whatever was now inside the Sanctum with them was an energy that Joanna keenly perceived, whereas Stephen did not. He'd never felt so inadequate.

"If we're attacked, what do you want me to do?" Joanna said, the weight of her own disadvantage pressing on her mind.

Stephen halted. She was right. A simple Eldritch chain wouldn't suffice to fully protect her. He mentally whispered the incantation for an enlarged Tao Mandalas energy shield. Joanna's eyes widened with awe as the golden wisps of the magical symbols encircled her.

"If anything happens, I'll pull you in front of me," Stephen said. "I can protect you better there than if you slipped behind me."

She frowned. "But I could at least cover you if I was behind you."

He smiled and shook his head. "I appreciate the offer of covering my back, but believe me, the Cloak of Levitation does an excellent job of fending off attacks."

The cloak ruffled happily.

They moved as one, but cautiously, as they left the Ancient One's small study. The library was as they'd left it, cold and empty, devoid of human habitation. Stephen closed his eyes and reached out to sense any aura, but nothing answered his silent call. He extended his awareness, focusing now on every corner of the Kamar-Taj, not simply the library.

There.

He opened his eyes and pressed forward. Joanna didn't speak, but even inside the golden energy surrounding her, her hands stayed in the defensive posture he'd taught her.

"Mordo?" she whispered.

"No. There's nothing human here. Just spells. Dark spells, recently cast."

"Are you sure no one's here?"

"I can't feel anything alive in this place."

They left the library and passed between the massive columns that held up the copious open-air halls of the Kamar-Taj.

"What are we going to do?" Joanna asked.

"Extinguish the spells." He smiled at her. "With your help, if you'd like."

Her hands fell from her fighting stance in shock. "You want me to help you _cast_ a spell?"

"I find lessons are best learned through first-hand experience."

"But I've never even cast a basic spell before."

"There's a first time for everything. And it won't hurt to try."

The first sphere of black magic hovered atop the center of the training grounds. It was the same place Stephen had found the body of Teta when Mordo had come to rid the Kamar-Taj of its finest pupils. Stephen pushed the feelings of wrath aside as he stood over the dark spell.

The invisible sphere pulsed with dark energy. Only Stephen could see it barely giving off a deep purple hue as it sucked the life force out of the very air surrounding it. Black magic was felt more than seen by sorcerers, though thanks to his luxury vacation inside the Dark Dimension, he'd become quite adept at knowing what to look for when he sensed its presence. Joanna stayed beside him and watched as he formed an Eldritch spell to vanquish something she might never be able to see.

"It's beautiful," Joanna breathed.

Stephen dropped his hands in shock. "What did you say?"

"The sphere." Joanna nodded to it. "It's beautiful."

"You can _see_ it?"

Joanna nodded. She seemed enthralled by the sphere. She knelt down, as if to touch it. Stephen snatched her back.

"Don't. Black spells like this are created from chaotic magic. They are inherently unstable. Touching one could trap you somewhere inside a chaotic dimension within the multiverse."

Joanna swallowed hard and nodded curtly. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing for now. Just watch."

Stephen tried not to think about the implications of Joanna being able to easily see the black magic spell in front of him. He placed his hands together, fingers touching, and slowly pulled them apart to create the Eldritch covering.

"Eldritch magic is light magic, the polar opposite of black spells," he explained. He kept a healthy distance between himself and the dark sphere. The first time he'd ever had to disarm a black spell similar to this one, he'd almost been sucked into a vortex.

Once his Eldritch covering was large enough, Stephen stood over the sphere and threw the golden veneer. The ball of darkness convulsed angrily as the light hit it. It quaked with fury before dissolving with a hiss.

"These are the same black spells I found around the Sanctum the day Mordo came," Stephen muttered. He concentrated his energy over the entire compound to search for Mordo, but still couldn't find any sign of him.

Even though she was safely inside the protective Tao Mandalas shields, Joanna stepped closer to Stephen. He couldn't blame her. She wasn't prepared to face Mordo.

"Come on," he said. "There's another spell this way."

The next one was focused on a ceiling outside the novice dormitories. Stephen showed Joanna the Eldritch spell step-by-step, eyeing her as she attempted to recreate it, but it was no use. She couldn't form even a spark of the Eldritch covering.

"Maybe this one is too advanced," he apologized.

"Or I just suck at magic."

"Don't talk like that, Joanna. Eradicating black magic is an intermediate, if not advanced level, of sorcery."

Stephen and Joanna tread carefully through the Kamar-Taj with Stephen extinguishing the dark spells one by one. He continued to search for Mordo's energy signature as they went, but the hallways were as silent as death.

"There." Stephen stopped after the fifth spell. "That's all of them."

Beside him, Joanna frowned. "No, there's one more."

"I don't…" Stephen paused. She sounded so sure. Maybe…

He closed his eyes and reached…

There. Next to the Ancient One's hidden study inside the library. Stephen grimaced. Why hadn't he noticed it when they were inside? Granted, it was a small spell, but it wasn't so small in scope he wouldn't have sensed it.

He allowed his consciousness to travel directly into the spell, examining its intricate details. Like the others, the black magic within didn't seem violent, only sedentary. As if it was watching, or waiting, for something. The dark power lay like an after-thought next to the door of the alcove, as if someone had begun weaving the incantation but stopped mid-spell. Almost as if…

…. That person had been interrupted.


	19. Chapter 18

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Joanna and Stephen raced to the Kamar-Taj library, but they found nothing there but the dark spell waiting for them. Joanna's intuition screamed at her that _something_ wasn't right, that something unsettling was there inside the library with them, but for some reason, Stephen didn't seem to sense it.

She watched as Stephen stood over the last black spell, his hands moving apart to weave the mesmerizing Eldritch counter-spell as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "Black magic is almost always used for attack, and yet these are just sitting here. It's almost like they're waiting or watching for something…"

Joanna breathed and inhaled the dark presence hovering nearby. Insatiable hunger, rage, and longing tumbled through her, the same feelings she'd experienced when she had first noticed the presence upon entering. And it all felt strangely familiar to her.

From Stephen's back, the Cloak of Levitation snapped her hem at Joanna.

Joanna frowned over at it. "What?"

The cloak snapped her hem again, motioning to somewhere behind Joanna.

"I don't know what you two are doing," Stephen said to them as he worked to strengthen the spell. "But I need to concentrate here."

Joanna felt as if all the electricity was being sucked out of the air. She had no other way to describe it. Energy leeched out from where they stood in the library, as if it were being gathered somewhere else. But why would someone, or something, want to collect all the energy inside the room? Unless…

Without thinking, Joanna shoved Stephen away from the dark spell just as a nearly invisible bolt punctured the place where he had been standing. The cloak fluttered around Stephen's neck, but whether from gratitude or annoyance, Joanna couldn't tell.

Joanna gasped. "I don't know what's attacking us, but whatever it is, it's using the energy around the room to charge itself, if that makes any sense."

"It makes sense to me, so let's just go with it." Stephen raised his hands and an Eldritch rope rippled between his fingers. "How's your shield holding?"

"It's fine. I think." Joanna still had the Mandalas shield Stephen had created wrapped around her body, but seeing Stephen ready to battle made her want to help. She fell into a fighting stance, even though she felt impotent doing it. She glanced back over at Stephen and saw he had his Eldritch spells ready, the cloak tense behind him.

"Show yourself." Stephen's voice reverberated throughout the room, his tone transfused with the kind of authority Joanna imagined he'd once used to cause inferiors inside a surgery room to cower in front of him.

A low, almost inaudible buzzing sound filled the library.

Stephen spoke fluently in a language Joanna had never heard before, and golden light pierced every corner of the room.

"There," Joanna pointed to their right, behind a shelf with loose chains that apparently once hosted the master section of sorcery literature.

Joanna expected Stephen to try and converse with the creature, but he didn't. Instead Stephen threw his Eldritch whip right at where Joanna pointed. The empty shelf the creature had retreated behind broke in half, falling to the floor in a crush of wood and dust.

The creature let out a shriek as its hiding place crumbled. Stephen whipped the golden links in his hand at the sound. Sparks flew as his Eldritch rope grazed the far wall, but the creature wasn't there. He threw it again, hitting the same place the creature had already vacated.

 _He can't see what's attacking him,_ Joanna realized.

"Forty-five degrees to your left," she cried.

Stephen shot an Eldritch bolt in that location. The entity flashed a deep purple hue and screamed as the blast hit it before disappearing again.

"Can you see it?" Stephen yelled.

"Yes! Can't you?"

"Obviously not. I can't even sense it." Irritation flooded his voice.

From out of nowhere, a dark crimson blast struck Stephen. He grunted as he hunched over. His Eldritch whip dissolved

"No!" Joanna could see the creature lurking on the other side of the room. It grew bolder when it saw Stephen crumble. Its buzzing grew louder, making the floor under Joanna's feet vibrate. It crept closer to them.

The creature threw what looked to Joanna like a black dart right toward Stephen's heart. As the dart sailed through the air, it managed to extinguish any remaining electric light it passed.

Joanna didn't think. She just slid right in front of Stephen, her body covering his, using the Tao Mandalas shields he'd created to protect them both.

The dart slammed into the shield. Joanna gasped for breath as it hit. She could feel the darkness puncture the Eldritch light around them. The shield held as the creature's weapon disintegrated.

Joanna swallowed. That hadn't been pleasant, but the shields covering her could handle another strike or two from the creature. At least until Stephen could stand to fight. The thought was still in the forefront of her mind when the Mandalas shields around her flickered and died.

From in front of them, the creature cried out in triumph. It sounded like metal grinding against glass. Stephen made a noise somewhere between pain and distaste when the sound hit him, but other than being loud, the creature's cry didn't bother Joanna.

The creature didn't linger. It threw another weapon at Stephen, this one longer and sharper from end-to-end, like a spear.

The Cloak of Levitation grabbed Joanna and jerked her back.

"Wait!" She fought against the cloak. She didn't want Stephen to die. Not like this, and certainly not for her.

But two Mandalas shields formed inside Stephen's hands faster than she believed possible. "Stay back, Joanna."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What are you going to do?"

She couldn't believe it, but a twitch of a smile formed on his lips. "I'm going to banish this asshole to another dimension."

The creature moved.

"To your left," Joanna called.

Stephen raised his hands and enormous Eldritch bolts formed in his fists. He pulled his arm back and pitched them. He missed the creature by inches.

"Further left," Joanna said. "No, wait. He's moving again…"

Frustration welled up inside Joanna. She wanted to scream. No matter how quickly she gave Stephen instruction, the creature remained one step ahead of them.

The creature seemed to now sense Stephen had no visual. It lurked behind shelves and near the deadened desk lamps to wait for an opening. From Joanna's perspective, the creature seemed to radiate an eggplant hue that rippled in and out like waves of dark violet lava. It was almost beautiful.

As she shouted instructions to Stephen, she kept waiting for the creature to turn on her. Stephen must have been expecting the same thing because he stayed within steps of her. But the creature never attacked Joanna.

"Ninety degrees to your right!" Joanna said.

Stephen threw twin Eldritch blasts before the creature could dart away. It let out a second eerie howl that made Stephen wince in pain.

Joanna caught movement from behind Stephen. It was the dark spell he hadn't had a chance to vanquish. The sphere of black energy had started to grow larger.

"Stephen, behind you! The spell!"

But he couldn't answer. His shields were up as the creature launched another assault of dark spells against him. The force of this new attack forced Stephen to slide backwards several feet. He was now so close to the dark energy sphere, Joanna was afraid he might touch it.

The cloak seemed to have the same thought. It snapped its hem up and away from the object, yanking Stephen across the room where he would be safe. But the force of the cloak's momentum lobbed him off balance. He slipped.

Stephen's lurch was subtle, but the creature noticed. The consistent deep buzzing from its body combined with another victorious shriek. Joanna watched in horror as the center of the creature began to glow a blackish-purple. The size of this new black spell looked big enough to tear this entire section of the Kamar-Taj apart. The library shook violently, and Joanna felt her hope evaporate. Even if Stephen managed to counter this new threat and cover them both, it wouldn't matter how good their spell was if the ceiling collapsed on top of them. A part of her hoped Stephen would simply make a portal so they could live to fight another day, but one glance at the determination on Stephen's face made Joanna realize he would finish this no matter the cost. Whoever, or whatever, this creature was had triggered something primal inside of him.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as the creature's spell grew more rapidly than Stephen's. She glanced over at Stephen, at the Cloak of Levitation who recoiled in agony from both the black spells and the dark energy sphere near it.

Joanna made up her mind. Without thinking, she reached down and picked up the sphere.

"Joanna!"

Stephen was staring at her, dumbfounded, but his voice sounded far away. The sphere felt warm in her hands. It throbbed with energy against her skin as she held it. The swirling darkness deep inside called to her to seize its power and never let go.

The creature stopped forming its spell. It stared right at her.

"K'Klea.. dor er sott?" it said. The words vibrated through the library.

"Whatever the hell _that_ means," Joanna replied. She felt the black energy from the sphere radiate up her arm. Using all of her might, all of the anger she'd been holding onto over the years, she flung the sphere at the creature.

The creature howled in terror as the dark sphere hit. It soared backwards from the force, knocking down shelves and desks until it hit the outer wall directly behind it. A gaping hole appeared right in the creature's center. The creature clawed at the hole forming in its middle, trying to remove the sphere within. The hole expanded inside its chest, filling the creature's body with pulsating orbs of dark energy. The creature gave Joanna a look of hurt and betrayal that combined with its cries of torment. That duality shook her to the core.

The creature cried out one last time as Stephen cast the largest Tao Mandalas shield Joanna had ever seen. He held it up as a barrier.

"Get behind me, Joanna!"

Gold energy spilled around them, but the strength from the Eldritch light faded as the dark energy within the creature grew.

"I can't hold it." Stephen grunted with the exertion of sustaining the shield.

Joanna had never felt so powerless. Her teacher and only friend might die because of her impulsiveness. Her eyes cast around for another place to shelter from the inevitable explosion of the black spell coming toward them, but there was nothing. No place to hide but behind the flickering Eldritch shield in Stephen's shaking hands.

The creature burst apart.

Stephen kept the Mandalas shield up as long as he could. As the blast hit, he ducked down over Joanna. The Cloak of Levitation covered them both as the entire library quaked in its death throes. The chaos seemed to last for an eternity. Then, everything was suddenly still.

Joanna slowly lifted her head. There was no longer a wall where the creature had been. A gaping hole now stood in its place. The night sounds from the Kamar-Taj grounds sighed through the opening, hushed and gentle.

Joanna hadn't felt any exhaustion until this moment. She couldn't believe she was still alive. "Stephen?"

"I'm here."

He sounded almost as tired as she did. He stood up slowly. Joanna unwound herself from the floor as she swayed to her feet. The Cloak of Levitation trembled on Stephen's back, still in one piece but in obvious misery.

"So…" Joanna stared up at him, her body shaking, "I just threw a ball of dark energy at some weird demon thing."

He shook his head. "No, Joanna. You took a passive spell made from black magic and transformed it into an attack of pure dark energy."

She managed a shaky smile. "Maybe that mind seek isn't such a bad idea after all then?"

Her vision blurred, and she felt her legs give way. She collapsed. The last thing she remembered was Stephen's arm encircling her body to catch her before she fell to the floor.


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: In a perfect world, this entire chapter would be devoted to the mind seek. But once I realized how long it was getting, and how I would be bouncing between POVs, I decided to break each section down into separate chapters. Hopefully, it flows better this way. Look for the next three chapters to be posted rather quickly after this one. Thanks again for all who are following "Strange Beginnings."**

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Joanna jerked up in bed, and once again, apprehension threatened to drown her. She wasn't in the Kamar-Taj library, and wherever she was now certainly wasn't her bedroom in the Sanctum, but the room she'd awoken in seemed vaguely familiar somehow.

Her eyes traveled around the room's four walls, each with a window cradling its center and bookshelves sandwiched between them. But it wasn't until she noticed the black cauldron sitting in the middle of the room that she knew for sure where she was. Stephen's bedroom. Not her own room, but his. She wondered why.

Stephen had his back to her as he worked at his desk. Joanna sat up in his bed. The instant she went upright, he turned.

"Good. You're awake." Stephen closed both his journal and the thick text beside it before coming over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed. His wrist pressed against her forehead to check her temperature, and he held her wrist to check her pulse. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"You always go back to being a doctor when you're nervous," she said. Her voice was hoarse. She coughed to clear it.

"Old habits." He smiled. "I've been reading about creatures from the Dark Dimension, and I found something particularly interesting."

"Oh?"

He waited a beat, his fingers still on her pulse, nodded, and then gingerly placed her arm back on the bed. "I believe the creature you killed is known as a Mindless One."

Stephen retreated back to his desk for the giant textbook he'd been reading. He flipped through the pages until he came to one with a drawing. He twisted the book around until Joanna could see the picture.

"Is this what you saw attacking us in the Kamar-Taj?" he asked.

Joanna nodded as she studied the page. "I think so. This creature has the same shape, the same color, but it looked a lot clearer to me. The lines on this picture are blurred."

"Most likely blurred because sorcerers have only glimpsed Mindless Ones. We've never seen them fully."

She leaned back against the pillow. It was soft against her head. "What's a Mindless One?"

"A servant of Dormammu. And I think this particular one was sent to try and find you. It would explain the passivity of the sight spells, their origin, and why black magic appeared both here and also in the Kamar-Taj."

"But why me?" Joanna jerked up, but too quickly. Her vision blurred. She held her head in her hands. She almost asked him to use magic to heal her, but stopped herself just in time. No magic for healing, not from him. "Sorry, but you wouldn't happen to have any aspirin or something, would you?"

He nodded and left the room. Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore she saw the threshold of his bedroom shimmer as he crossed over it.

Planting her feet on the hardwoods, Joanna slowly rose from the bed. Dizziness washed over her. She waited for it to clear. The Cauldron sat in the center of the room, and she trudged over to it. She couldn't help but peek inside, but she glimpsed nothing but the bottom of an empty pot. She wondered if it remained silent for everyone but its master.

Stephen's journal lay closed on his desk. She pursed her lips and strolled toward it. He had recorded all of his experiences in sorcery, he'd said. Including anything he'd seen and thought that related to her. Was his belief about the black spells and her connection to them written inside? Her hand reached for the journal…

… and a jolt blasted her fingers. With a hiss, she cradled her hand.

"Magical lock." Stephen said from the doorway.

He appeared amused as he reentered his bedroom. As before, the doorway shimmered briefly as he walked through. He placed a glass of water on the desk and handed her an ibuprofen.

"Are you familiar with the mythos of Pandora?" he asked her, grin still on his face.

Joanna felt herself blush. She glanced down at her fingers, but no burn or mark was there. "Yes, and thank you for mocking my curiosity." She swallowed the pain reliever with some water to hide her mortification.

"I'm sorry, Joanna. I honestly didn't think you'd try to read it."

Chagrin washed over her, mingling with her embarrassment. "It's none of my business. I guess I just wondered what you'd seen."

"You can ask me anything you want, you know." His voice was tender. "I would never withhold knowledge from you."

She finished the glass of water and set it on his desk. "Okay then. Why do you think that mindless creature was spying on me?"

"Because of who you are."

They locked gazes, and Joanna could feel his compassion flowing through the link. He cared about her, she realized. Cared enough to even guard harsh truths from her if he thought they might hurt. But Joanna was done with secrets.

"I'm ready for the mind seek," she said.

Long seconds passed before he nodded. He walked to the windows and created an intricate Eldritch spell around the frames. The daylight streaming through the glass seemed to shimmer as she watched him finish.

"I saw similar magic around the door," Joanna said. "It shimmers when anything touches it."

Stephen nodded. "This room of the Sanctum is protected by spells so ancient even I cannot undo them. I've formed my own enchantments over the years to protect not only me while I sleep, but all the relics inside." He pointed to the cauldron. "Do you know how many dark sorcerers have tried to steal the Cauldron of the Cosmos over the millennia?"

"I have no idea. How many?" She felt the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "Half a dozen? Two? I mean, how many evil sorcerers could there be?"

Stephen chuckled. "Only one now."

Somberness filled the room. "Mordo, you mean?"

"To be fair, Mordo doesn't want to destroy Earth's defenses, just its sorcerers."

"Doesn't destroying the sorcerers _ruin_ Earth's defenses?"

"It doesn't help, but he's being careful. I honestly believe he doesn't want anything from the Dark Dimension here on Earth. For now, all the Sanctums are still intact."

She breathed a sigh of relief. One of her first lessons, besides hand-to-hand combat, was the history of the Sanctums and how sorcerers defended their seals from other dimensional threats.

"Do you know where Mordo is?" she asked.

"No."

"What about Wong?"

Stephen looked away. "I have no idea where Wong is. He's not in any of the Sanctums."

He sounded so upset. She wanted to reassure him, to let him know Wong was probably fine, but she knew it was false hope. If the mindless one who'd attacked them was from the Dark Dimension, and had been tasked with spying on her, what might it have done with a sorcerer like Wong who stood in its way? She felt a responsibility to help, especially since she now realized all of this was her fault.

"It's not your fault, Joanna," Stephen said.

She frowned. "Can you read my mind or something?"

"Only your aura, but sometimes that's close enough."

"It _is_ my fault. If I wasn't here, none of this would have happened." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"You can't control what the darkness does any more than I can."

"Maybe not, but I _can_ control what I do about it." She gestured around the room. "So, where are we going to do this mind seek thing?"

"There is no safer place inside the Sanctum than this room. We'll do it here. I'll have to place you under an enchantment to keep you unconscious. Do you trust me?"

He held out his hand to her, leading her back to the bed. Apprehension gripped her as she lay down. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Then I'll pull myself out of your memories."

"Are you sure you'll be able to do that?"

"I'm sure."

His voice sounded confident, but Joanna could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. Her eyes remained open as Stephen walked back to his desk to grab the chair he'd been sitting in when she'd woken up. He placed the chair next to the bed, well within reach of Joanna.

"You'll be right here the whole time, right?" she asked. Her voice sounded far away.

"I'm not going anywhere. My physical body will collapse." He nodded to the chair. "But my astral form, my spirit, will be above you. I should be able to see and sense everything as I look through your memories, so if anything happens I'll be able to come right back. Okay?"

Like a patient being told what to expect during surgery. She knew what the Astral Plain was in theory, had a basic understanding of what Stephen was about to do, but that didn't make it any easier. Joanna glanced again to the door. This was her last chance to exit, a final opportunity to say, _You know what? I've changed my mind. Sorry._

She inhaled one last reserve of courage and nodded. "Let's go."


	21. Chapter 20

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Stephen kept Joanna under an enchanted sleep and watched her unconscious form for anything out of the ordinary before he began. He'd never attempted anything like this before, hadn't even considered it as a viable option, but under the circumstances of the last few days, he was grateful for Joanna's cooperation.

In all the histories he'd read about the mystic arts, Stephen had yet to discover a sorcerer who could hold a dark spell already cast and somehow contrive its contents to do his or her bidding the way Joanna had done. Black magic just didn't allow for it. It was too chaotic. Yet she had picked that sphere up off the floor as if it were a child's toy, and then hurled it at a creature from the Dark Dimension to blast it from existence.

He hadn't mentioned that last part to her, but the creature had been erased from the inside out thanks to how she'd cast the spell. Passive sight spells, even black ones, couldn't attack no matter how a sorcerer might want to transform them into their own offensive blitzkrieg. Yet, somehow, Joanna had done it without even trying. Stephen thought back to Wong's warning about what might happen if Joanna even gained power from the Dark Dimension and felt uneasy.

The Cloak of Levitation floated next to Stephen, as if ready to stand guard while he was inside Joanna's mind. He glanced over at her. "Have you ever seen a mind seek done before?" he asked.

The cloak bowed its collar once before lifting it again, nodding.

"How did it go?"

The cloak shivered.

"Not well, then?"

A shake of her collar.

He sighed. "Well, let's hope I don't screw this up."

Stephen relaxed his physical body into the grooves of his chair and forced his spirit into the Astral Plain. He glanced back at his unconscious form resting in the chair. No matter how many times he entered the Astral Plain, his inert physique laying there in wait never ceased to amaze him. It was like his body belonged to someone else, had always belonged to someone else: one solid piece of a stranger who'd somehow possessed his soul at birth.

He moved closer to Joanna. As he hovered over her, he flashed back to the hundreds of intricate brain surgeries he'd performed over the years. Only this time instead of a scalpel, he would be using magic as his instrument. Placing his hands next to her temples, he closed his eyes and mentally reached inside her mind.

Stephen wasn't prepared for what happened next. In the Book of Cagliostro, mind seeks involved the sorcerer observing the life of the unconscious being below them as if watching a movie in fast-forward. Theoretically, Stephen should've been able to stop the moving pictures that formed her memories, and choose any single one to pull out and focus on in more detail.

But that's not what happened. Instead, Joanna took Stephen's mind and … attacked.

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut as anguish poured through him. It felt like parts of his mind were being sliced into fragments, piece by piece. He wanted nothing more then to retreat back inside his physical body.

Under his hands, he felt his connection with Joanna waver. He centered his thoughts and rewove the connection, but the darkness and agony kept coming. And all of this violence and pain was harnessed inside Joanna. How could anyone have this much dark energy running through them and not go insane?

Then, he saw it. A wisp of a memory just within his reach. He plucked it out of the blackness surrounding him, and focused. The pain stopped.

He was inside someone's house. Wallpaper hung in tattered strips, and the appliances looked like something bought at a 1970's garage sale. A young Joanna, probably no older than six years old, sat quietly at a scarred kitchen table. In the background, he could hear a man's voice yelling at a woman who screamed back at him. Joanna didn't cower or appear upset as most children would. Instead, she hummed to herself. In her hands Stephen saw a black orb form, then disappear, over and over again…

That particular memory vanished. He gritted his teeth as the waves of her experiences hit him. Visions from other homes, other faces, peered out at Stephen before rushing away. Images of Earth morphed into pitch-black atmospheres, swirling bursts in a myriad of colors, darting past him.

Somewhere inside the chaos, Joanna's thoughts blended with his. The face of Dormammu leered at him, taunting his inadequacy as he had years ago when Stephen had tried to save humanity. Stephen felt himself relive the torture Dormammu had forced him to endure over and over again, only this time he became permanently stuck inside the time loop he'd created, never to leave. In the distance, he heard a child's cry. Or maybe it was a woman's? He couldn't tell. The nightmare continued, and Stephen searched frantically for a way out.

A second point of light, dimmer than the first one, appeared near him. Stephen fought against the pain and grasped Joanna's memory before it disappeared. Once again, the pain gave way to her memory.

He saw a beautiful woman, with Joanna's hair and light eyes, imprisoned within a cage made entirely of black magical energy. A little girl, no more than three or four years-old stood next to the woman. If Stephen hadn't recognized Joanna by her appearance, he would have known the little girl instantly by her rebellious spirit. The child Joanna tested the prison's strength with her tiny hands, absorbing the pain as the dark spell refused to give up its occupants. Whenever her mother tried to pull her away, Joanna simply shrugged her mother off and kept trying. Never once did she give up.

Stephen glanced around him. He recognized the Dark Dimension, but he'd never taken the time to truly study it before. Everything here was immortal, but with a darkened, black aura at its core. Everything except Joanna and her mother. Somehow life had outgrown this dimension in a way that was both grotesque and all-consuming. Was this what would one day happen to his own time and universe if left unchecked and without a Sorcerer Supreme to guide it? Stephen had no idea, but it was an alarming thought.

Joanna's mother was, in fact, a Faltine. A race of energy beings he now knew to be powerful sorcerers in their own right, and as he watched Joanna try to break free of her prison, he suddenly got an accurate sense of just how powerful. In his studies, he'd discovered Faltine were immortals who once ruled over the Dark Dimension, creating a balance of light within the darkness. Until Dormammu had come to power as their dictator.

The tie to Joanna's memory vanished. Another collision from her mind assaulted him. Wave after wave of dark energy hurled at Stephen as he found himself being drawn further back inside her memories. He gritted his teeth as it washed over him like two-ton psychological tsunamis.

Another source of light, this one a steady beam. Stephen clung to it, and allowed the light to pull him out of the chaos and into yet another memory.

Joanna was there in front of him, about the same age as she'd been in the last memory. She seemed to stare straight into his soul. Even though she appeared to be a little girl, she was timeless, just like the dimension she hailed from.

"Are you here to free me?" she asked.

Stephen froze. She couldn't have been talking to him. He was merely an observer to events in Joanna's timeline. He glanced behind him, expecting to see the Ancient One from Joanna's past hovering nearby to free her, but there was no one. Only the endless swirling of colors and myriad of worlds screaming in the distance.

"My mom wants me to be free," she insisted.

Joanna stepped up to him. The little girl never broke her gaze from his. Without even realizing he was doing it, Stephen knelt down to her level.

Her tiny hands cupped his face _. "Free me."_

He gasped and found himself sucked out of the Dark Dimension, and out of Joanna's mind.

Stephen breathed deep. He was back in his bedroom, but still on the Astral Plain. His spirit wouldn't stop shaking, though his body remained inside a peaceful slumber on his chair.

He closed his spiritual eyes, fighting back the horrors he had just experienced. Living through his own memories inside the Dark Dimension had been bad enough, but having to face Joanna's had almost broken him. He'd never expected to see her as a child inside that place, so young and yet so old. And he certainly hadn't expected her to actually _communicate_ with him. In all his research, no sorcerer had ever interacted with a memory in a mind seek. Then again, no sorcerer had ever attempted one on an immortal before.

There was so much more to figure out, so much more he had to know…

Suddenly, he felt a soft hand resting on his. His eyes flew open.

Joanna's spirit floated beside him on the Astral Plain.


	22. Chapter 21

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Joanna had no idea what had happened, but somehow she found herself jerked out of her body. She gazed around her in awe. Stephen's body lay slumped in a chair next to the bed. The Cloak of Levitation drifted nearby, shifting back and forth as if agitated. Or afraid. Was her joining Stephen on the Astral Plain part of her mind seek?

She turned back to Stephen. His luminous form hovered above her. He looked like a ghost, only more human somehow. His eyes were shut tight, like he was in pain. She touched his translucent hand, could feel the skin beneath her own as if it were solid.

Did her skin look like that? Joanna held up her hands in front of her face. Sure enough, her skin was translucent. She felt horrified. Then she saw her body lying defenseless on the bed. Fear welled up inside of her. She couldn't breathe, felt like she might be hyperventilating, which was crazy because how could she _breathe_ in this form?

"How did you do that?" Stephen said.

Stephen's calm voice imprisoned her anxiety. Her eyes met his, and her fear melted away.

"What happened?" she said.

"You joined me on the Astral Plain."

"I thought this was part of the mind seek."

He shook his head. "You did this on your own."

"I… I don't know how…" Joanna stared down at her empty body on the bed

He took her hand. "I need you to go back, Joanna. Your thoughts are connected to your spirit, and I can't read your memories if you're here."

"I don't know how to get back." Doubt overwhelmed her. She gazed down at her sleeping form and trembled. "My God, am I a ghost now? Am I stuck here?"

"No, it's going to be alright. Just relax. Close your eyes."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and was about to ask Stephen what she should do, when he embraced her. Her eyes flew open. Their spiritual forms seemed to fade into one another. Warmth and a love that went far beyond anything simply romantic flowed over her. A part of Joanna wanted desperately to push him away while the other part welcomed this intimacy. Before she could form coherent speech, he tenderly nudged her back down...

Even though Stephen's push had been a gentle one, it felt like being slammed back inside of her body. The sensation was cold, as if someone had dropped a bucket of ice water all over her from the inside out. She twitched on the bed, desperate to sit up, to leave this heavy physical body behind her again, but Stephen's luminous form rested against her like a comforting breath of wind. She felt those translucent hands touch her face, stroke her cheek. His lips brushed against her forehead.

"Be still."

Her heart rate slowed. When she opened her eyes again, she was whole. Stephen's ghostly form still hovered above her, undeterred. She glanced back to where his body rested on the chair.

"Are you ready to try again?" The floating image of Stephen Strange asked her.

She nodded.

"I have no idea how on earth you managed to pull yourself into the Astral Plain without being forced out of your body. It took months of training before I felt comfortable enough to even try-"

"I don't know how I did it either, believe me…"

"—But I need you to stay relaxed. I can try and calm your mind, but without your cooperation, a mind seek won't work."

"It won't?"

He paused. "It might, but it won't be pleasant."

Wasn't _that_ a relaxing thought? Joanna nodded and closed her eyes…

And found herself inside a dark dream.

A cage of black magic enclosed Joanna, its seal stronger than gravity. Joanna fought against the invisible force field, but every time she flung herself into its power, she was thrown back. She'd never felt so claustrophobic, so helpless. She looked up at the top, hoping to see an escape above her. But all she saw was a deep abyss of horrors she didn't have the words to describe. Joanna pressed her hands over her eyes. Her body felt whole, not ephemeral as it had when she was on the Astral Plain. She cried out again and threw herself against the barriers encasing her.

She was in hell. Somehow, she'd accidentally gotten trapped inside hell. It was the only explanation.

Joanna's mind collapsed under the weight of hopelessness. She fell to her knees. Tears streamed down her face.

A comforting, protective presence appeared beside her. She turned and saw Stephen standing next to her, staring into the void.

"Well, this was… unexpected," he said.

"I'm trapped!" Joanna gasped for breath. "We both are."

"Not trapped. You can be free from this place anytime you want."

She shook her head. "No…"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Joanna. Try it. Clear your mind. Use it to dissolve the barrier keeping you here."

Was this a test of some kind? Joanna closed her eyes and imagined herself free…

The cage disappeared. Joanna began to fly, floating above the torments below her, untouched by the chaos it caused. A void appeared, it's blackness surrounding her. Somehow, Joanna found it a comfort. Through it all, Stephen remained beside her, a guardian against the darkness.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Somehow you pulled me into the Dream Dimension."


	23. Chapter 22

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Stephen took her hand, and they flew deeper into the void in front of them. "I've been inside your memories for less than a minute, Joanna, and I've already learned far more than I imagined. Wong was right. You're not human, though your species mirrors the human physique. Whether humans took our physical form from you, or you duplicated us, I don't know."

"Who _am_ I?"

Her question was a plea to him, the same unanswered cry that rippled throughout the ages, across time and space, to reach the ears of God. He felt inadequate even attempting to answer her, but he had to try. "For the last month while we've been training, I've been doing research on the Faltine and the Mhuruuks."

"Who?"

"The species of your mother and father." He waited for a moment to let that sink in. "You come from a race of beings who live in a dimension outside of time. The use of magic comes as naturally to them as basic problem solving does to us. But they were trapped by the Darkness eons ago, at least from an earthly perspective. And your kind evolved to use dark magic in ways that would corrupt humans. Even me."

As Stephen spoke, the void surrounding them evolved. No longer a dead space without substance, Joanna was creating the Dark Dimension inside of her dream. He recognized the piercing blackness interspersed with dead planets, the whirlpools of color clashing with the dark.

"I don't understand what this all means," Joanna said.

"It means it's time you embraced who you are." He gestured to the kaleidoscope around them. "This is the Dark Dimension, Joanna. You've recreated it. It's your home, the one your mother wanted you to escape from years ago. Do you remember? A woman named the Ancient One brought you to Earth…"

A vague memory planted itself inside Joanna's mind, which passed over into Stephen's. He could see it as clearly as if she'd taken a photograph. A powerful woman without hair, filled with golden energy…

"You do remember," Stephen whispered.

Joanna didn't trust her voice, he knew. Her heart felt far too heavy for words. He could see that, too.

"I've been teaching you to use magic the way I was taught," Stephen said, "the way _humans_ are taught. But you're not human, so I need to change my way of thinking."

At his words her hand trembled in his, but there was nothing he could do to reassure her save lying about her past. And he wasn't about to do that. The only thing that would free Joanna, _really_ free her, was the truth.

"You're immortal, Joanna. An immortal who craves chaotic energy because you were born inside the Dark Dimension. You've been drawn to chaos your entire life, just as you felt drawn to that dark sphere in the Kamar-Taj. No human could have crafted that black spell the way you did. And you did it naturally because you were born inside of a place filled with dark energy."

Her hand quaked inside his.

"But your story doesn't end here inside the darkness unless you want it to. Your soul is full of positive human emotion: love, compassion, kindness. But it's also filled with negative energy in the form of fear, hate, and anger. You will have to choose how you live, and who you want to be."

Joanna's strength faltered. He could feel it as he held onto her.

Stephen slowed their flight and pointed at the brightest part inside of the void. A singular point of light in the ripples of darkness that made up Joanna's past inside the Dark Dimension.

"Do you see that light?" he asked.

She nodded.

"That represents who you are, Joanna. It's your aura, your energy. It's light out of darkness. It's the person your mother wanted you to become, a separate entity from Dormammu and the dimension that enslaved your kind."

Joanna didn't speak, and Stephen was afraid this was all too much for her to take in. He doubted his mind could've accepted something this profound had he been in her place. But when he glanced over at her and read her thoughts, he saw only serenity. Stephen might be initiating the mind seek, but Joanna was the one in control.

"Whenever you're ready, Joanna, we can leave," he said.

She had pulled them inside this dreamscape, and she had to be the one to draw them out again. He expected the separation to be a gentle one.

He was mistaken.

Stephen was ripped from the Dream Dimension. His mind separated from the dream as harshly as a bandage being rent from a fresh wound. The dreamscape morphed until he was back inside Joanna's subconscious mind. Her memories seized him once again, threatening to steal his sanity. His astral form felt like it was being split into a million pieces. He cried out in pain.

From somewhere nearby, a hand reached out for his…

The real world yanked him back. Stephen sucked in a breath as he jolted from his chair, his astral and physical form now one in the same. The hand he'd felt touching him was gone. Joanna lay silently on the bed, her body still wrapped in sleep. He risked reaching out to caress her face. His eyes filled with pain. Now that Joanna knew who she was, what would she choose to become? And would he have the courage to continue teaching her?

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Joanna? Are you okay?"

"Clea," she said. She stared right through him. Her voice was strong. "My name is Clea."

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 **A/N: So ends the entirety of Ch.19. It might be** **bit** **longer than a day before I can post the next chapter. :)**

 **Thanks everyone!**


	24. Chapter 23

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Clea felt free.

It was as if someone, or something, from years ago had loaded her mind under a weight of psychic chains. Those chains had bound her emotions, keeping her trapped inside the psyche of a scarred young woman named Joanna. And then, like a ray of light deep inside a kaleidoscope of darkness, Stephen had shown her who she really was, and the chains had snapped off.

She couldn't remember why she had ever feared Stephen entering her thoughts in the first place. She was strong, much stronger than she knew she could be. The woman named Joanna seemed like an illusion, a mirage of a person she'd once known intimately but who now faded into the bittersweet memories of her past. Joanna was gone, and Clea stood in her place.

Stephen nodded. "Clea." Her new name rolled off his tongue. "Clea, I'll be honest, it might take some time for me to get used to calling you something besides Joanna."

Before she could smile at his vain attempt at lightening the mood, a fearful thought gripped her. She grabbed him by the forearm. "Please… I know I've already asked you for a lot, but please... don't tell anyone I'm not human."

The world was full of human beings terrified of the "other," whether it was someone from another race, or religion, or any variety of differences that made up the human experience. And now that inhumans walked the Earth, disguised and with super powers, that innate fear inside homo sapiens had only grown larger. She didn't want it directed at her.

Stephen touched her hand. "It'll be our secret," he promised.

"Knock-knock." A male voice called out.

Clea gasped and jerked upright in the bed. A strange man stood at the door to Stephen's bedroom.

Stephen jumped to his feet, forming an Eldritch whip to fight the intruder.

"Easy there, Sorcerer Supreme," the stranger said. He held up an enormous book with thick silver letters bolted onto its cover. "I'm sorry to walk in on you like this, but the front door was open, and I couldn't leave this lying around."

The Eldritch whip dissolved. Stephen smiled. "Agent Coulson. You've brought back the Darkhold."

Agent Coulson smiled but remained silent, watching them. He had on slacks and a blazer, but no tie. He looked like a businessman who'd stumbled out of his office during a fire drill. He was slight, with a receding hairline and a bemused expression on his lips that hinted at a sardonic sense of humor just underneath the surface of a kind exterior. That strange heavy book looked awkward in his hands.

He directed his smile at Clea, as if the two of them were sharing a secret. "Hello," he said.

"Hi." She suddenly realized how intimate this must look, her being in Stephen's bedroom, in his bed. Even though Clea was fully clothed, she could only imagine what this man thought. God, she hoped she wasn't blushing.

The man continued to smile but had the decency to look away.

"It's not what you think," Clea blurted to him. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. As soon as her feet hit the floor, all the lethargy from the mind seek disappeared. She felt amazing, better than she had in weeks, but whether it was from Stephen's enchanted sleep, or the mind seek itself, she didn't know.

"I believe you," the man said. "In a world like ours, I'm used to things never being the way they appear."

She walked up to the man, but the closer she got to the threshold of Stephen's bedroom door, the more hostile the air felt around her. The magic coming from the entrance poured off of the doorframe like an electromagnetic field of repulsion.

Stephen was already busy weaving an Eldritch spell to calm the shimming force field that guarded his room. Somehow Clea recognized this spell as she watched him create it, though she knew she'd never seen it done before. Stephen lifted his hands, like a conductor creating dips and lifts of music in a beautiful symphony. Every time he formed a new link in his magical chain, Clea felt its energy pulsing through the force field. When he was halfway through the motions, she started to anticipate every flourish of his hands. Up, down, clockwise… The magic felt foreign to her yet familiar, like a song playing on repeat but sung in an exotic language.

The man in the suit turned his attention to Stephen. "Tell you what, Sorcerer Supreme, why don't you just come out to me? Like I said, I didn't mean to interrupt… whatever it was you two were doing."

Clea couldn't imagine who this man was, but he obviously knew better than to cross the invisible barrier in front of him. Stephen finished the Eldritch spell, and the shimmering around the bedroom door lessened. The man in the suit stepped back.

Stephen held out his hand to Clea. "Shall we?"

They walked across the threshold into the hallway. "By the way, Agent Coulson, this is Clea."

Clea smiled. She couldn't hide her pleasure at him calling her by her real name. Everything about it felt right.

Agent Coulson offered his hand for Clea to shake. "You can call me Phil. No one calls me Agent Coulson unless they're someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. or happen to be Sorcerer Supreme. Stephen loves using formal titles."

That last dig at Stephen made Clea grin. "You work for S.H.I.E.L.D?" she asked. She remembered sitting in her old living room in St. Louis and watching newscasts revolving around this specific agency. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Phil nodded. "We like to keep busy. Nothing like inter-dimensional black magic to keep us humans on our toes."

Phil handed the Darkhold book to Stephen. He looked relieved to be rid of it. "I really am sorry for the intrusion. I hope you understand."

"I do. Believe me."

Clea expected Stephen to crack open the book, to browse though its magical pages as she'd seen him do with so many books inside the Sanctum, but instead he kept both hands clasped around the spine, sealing it shut.

Clea frowned. "Aren't you going to open it? Make sure it's okay."

Phil suddenly looked like he'd swallowed a bad oyster. Stephen, however, gifted her with a forced smile.

"Ah," Clea said. "I think I missed something."

"This book," Stephen tenderly lifted the thick silver-plated monstrous text, "is called the Darkhold. It's a collection of black magic principles written millions of years ago by a demon from the Dark Dimension named Chthon. It's one of several dark books on magic, but unlike books written by sorcerers, the spells inside the Darkhold cannot be contained once absorbed. It took the combined power of both Merlin and St. Brendon to finally close it again."

Clea swallowed hard. "Opening it up is bad, I take it."

Phil cleared his throat. "Mortals who read it seem to forfeit their souls."

"Charming." Clea eyed the book with a healthy respect.

"It's one of the most dangerous mystical relics known to Earth." Stephen headed for the stairs to the Chamber of Relics. "And I'm putting it back in its case right now."

"If you don't mind," Phil said, "I want to watch and make sure it's secure."

Stephen nodded. "Follow me."

Clea stared in awe as they trailed Stephen to the main stairwell. It wasn't the first time she'd been amazed at the ease of which he used magic to protect and defend the world around him. But this was even more significant, at least to her. She knew how much Stephen valued knowledge, how cavalier he could be about the possibility of using rebellious magic, and here he was with the self-control to not read the powerful book in his hands. The Darkhold must be dangerous indeed.

Stephen led them up the steps to the third floor. Once inside the Chamber of Relics, he went straight for the empty elevated case Clea had seen him lean against yesterday.

"How many agents did you lose to regain the Darkhold?" Stephen asked Phil softly.

"Too many," Phil replied. "Let's just say if I never see this book again, I will die a happy man."

Stephen handed Clea the book. Her eyes went wide with shock.

"Hold this," he said. "I need both hands to open and lock the case. Do _not_ open the Darkhold."

She nodded soberly. The book felt heavy in her grasp, not just from weight alone but also from an ominous evil within.

Phil watched her with an anxious expression on his face. "You must trust Clea a lot if you'd let her hold that book."

"I'd trust her with my life."

Pride overwhelmed Clea as Stephen creating the spell to open the case.

Stephen first opened a dimensional gateway, so small and subtle she doubted Phil could even see it. Once the gateway stood ready, Stephen started to open the case. There was no way Clea would be able to duplicate this Eldritch spell, even though she could almost _feel_ what his next move might be as he worked. The empty case gleamed brighter with each new wave of energy Stephen created. Clea had thought the case was made from simple glass, but after observing the ritual Stephen performed to open it, she realized she'd been wrong. The case was enclosed by something far stronger than plain enchanted glass. As he wove the spell, the glass seemed to melt away inside the gateway, leaving a hole in the very center of the case.

"It's open." Stephen held out his hand. "The Darkhold, Clea, if you please."

Clea passed it over. When the book left her hand, she felt its power break away. A tinge of sadness washed over her.

Stephen set the Darkhold inside its case. As soon as he placed it on the stand, he jerked his hands back. The entire display turned invisible and a force field as powerful as the one protecting Stephen's bedroom wrapped itself around the Darkhold. The new barrier hummed with violent energy, and the gateway sealed shut.

"I cast an invisibility shield over the case," Stephen said. "As well as a separate protection spell in addition to the dimensional lock. I'm not taking any chances this time around."

Phil nodded, but turned pale. He took a step back from the Darkhold's case. "Is this protection spell your own personal invention?"

"Yep."

"Is it supposed to make people nauseous?"

Stephen nodded and joined the agent in moving away. "A simple but effective deterrent. And it will influence anyone who comes near this case. Even me."

Clea realized she remained standing next to the case. When she saw the men watching her, she smiled shyly and stepped away. She prayed they hadn't noticed she felt perfectly fine standing near the Darkhold.

"So," Phil moved toward the stairs. He seemed to breathe easier once he was well away from the book. "How are things here in the New York Sanctum?"

"Well, as you can see, I have my first pupil."

"I see that." Phil turned and gave Clea a knowing smile. "Any other news?"

"Mordo stopped by a few weeks ago."

"And how was that happy reunion?"

"After almost killing Clea, Mordo vanished out of thin air."

Phil frowned. "Sorry to hear that. Did Mordo form a portal when he escaped?"

"No. It was odd. There was no use of Eldritch magic I could see."

Phil's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Something darker, maybe?"

"I sensed nothing. Mordo simply disappeared right under my feet. Literally."

"That doesn't sound good. Word is he's hunting down the rest of the world's sorcerers."

Stephen nodded. "Kamar-Taj has been pillaged."

"We heard. We sent a team over to collect any magical objects worth keeping out of Mordo's hands, but…"

"You found nothing," Stephen finished for him.

Phil looked as if there were no words to express everything he felt about that particular piece of news. He simply nodded.

Stephen sighed. "My one hope was that maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. had rescued the Eye of Agamotto…"

Phil stopped dead. "The Eye of Agamotto is gone?"

Stephen nodded. "Didn't you know?"

"My God," Phil looked away. "Just what the hell is going on? Thor keeps fighting dark creatures from the Nine Realms as soon as he can find them. We've had the brightest and best humans and inhumans alike lose their collective minds thanks to the Darkhold. And now Mordo might have an Infinity Stone?"

"It doesn't bode well," Stephen said.

"You've got that right. It looks like something terrible is coming."

"I will do everything in my power to stop it."

Phil cast a furtive glance at Stephen before holding his stare in Clea's direction. He did so respectfully, but the implication was there: _You're training a new pupil. Will you really have time to protect the world now that she's here?_

Clea felt resolve pulse through her veins. Instinctively, before she could talk herself out it, she reached for Stephen's hand. "Stephen's not the only one here protecting the Earth," she said. "I promise to do everything I can, too."

Stephen squeezed her hand.

Phil seemed to take a small measure of comfort from their words as they reached the door that led directly onto Bleecker Street. As he opened the front door, he nodded to Clea with one last hint of a smile on his face. "Take care of him for me, okay?"

"I will," she said firmly.

And with that, Phil Coulson left the Sanctum and disappeared onto the streets of Greenwich Village.


	25. Chapter 24

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After asking the Cloak of Levitation to keep watch, Stephen slept. He slept more soundly than he had in years. He placed the blame solely on Joanna, no _Clea's,_ mind seek. The images he'd seen, plus the experience of trying to read her thoughts under the constant barrage of her mental attacks, had utterly drained him.

Calling Clea by the name she'd been born with was still an anathema to him, but Clea (she no longer saw herself as Joanna) had accepted her birthright, and Stephen had to respect that. Yet in his mind, she would always be "Joanna," his first student, the bitter but sorrowful mother turned awe-struck skeptic who had evolved into a novice sorcerer.

Sometime in the dark and quiet hours of the early morning, Stephen opened his eyes to see Clea reading the Book of Cagliostro. If the mind seek had exhausted him, it had seemed to have had the opposite effect on her. Whatever she had found inside her memories of the Dark Dimension invigorated her, and she used it to her full advantage. Even now at… he stared at a clock…. 3:48AM.

His bedroom was dim with only the ancient lamp atop his desk giving off any light. The soft glow lingered over the shadows hiding in corners of his room. No sound came from the Greenwich Village streets outside. Stephen noted the four windows still hummed with the protection spell he'd placed over the glass last night.

A flutter near the bookshelf in the far corner caught his eye. The Cloak of Levitation had noticed he was awake. She tilted the top edge of her collar in Stephen's direction, an acknowledgement of his consciousness. But Clea didn't so much as glance in his direction.

She turned another page.

He smiled softly. "Interesting reading, isn't it?"

She nodded, too busy digesting the material inside the ancient text to reply.

When he'd first begun training her, Stephen had given her permission to read anything she liked from his bookshelves. The only caveat to this freedom was that she study the books only within the safely of his room. The last thing he wanted was for her to attempt a spell without him. It would not only be careless, but any magical energy generated outside of his room could, theoretically, be sensed by Mordo. The last thing he wanted was for that wayward sorcerer to show up and strike her down before she'd had a chance to discover her skills in the mystic arts.

She turned another page, obviously understanding the Sanskrit spells within. Stephen wasn't about to withhold an ounce of knowledge from her. It was one of the lessons of Kamar-Taj he'd been most grateful for. And that included her reading the Book of Cagliostro. He remembered when Wong had told him the book was too advanced for him all those years ago. Wong had been wrong then, and as he watched Clea read page after page, he realized Wong would be just as wrong now.

Clea didn't seem to be having trouble with any of the non-English texts if the pile of books next to her was any indication. Had she read through all of them tonight? He wasn't sure, but he watched in fascination as she flipped through the Book of Cagliostro like a broken sail whipping in the breeze, free and without a destination. While Stephen took pleasure in her reading about magic, a part of him was wry. He remembered his own thirst for knowledge, even forbidden knowledge. What would have happened all those years ago if no one had been inside the library when he'd tampered with time using the Eye of Agamotto?

"It's incredible," Clea breathed as her eyes flickered from page to page. She absorbed the spells as easily as gulping down water.

Stephen moved to join her at the desk, stretching out his tired muscles. "It's incredible, but it's not very intuitive. You'd have to master the basics before attempting these."

"I wish I could do even one of these spells," she whispered.

"May I?" Stephen reached for the book.

Clea handed it over. As soon as she let go of the text, her face fell into a look of sheer exhaustion. She yawned.

He couldn't suppress his grin. "I was going to suggest trying one of the dark ones, but maybe we should try tomorrow. You look tired."

Clea suddenly looked wide-awake. "You want me to try a dark spell?"

"Think of this as an experiment. And a controlled one."

With a flick of his wrist, Stephen split the air around them into the shards of the mirror dimension. Clea stared at the entrance to this new dimension with the awe of a child at Christmas. The look on her face made him smile.

Stephen took her hand. He guided her inside. "This is the Mirror Dimension. When the Ancient One introduced this safe space to me, I was told it was a dimension that was always present but undetected."

"Even by other sorcerers?"

He nodded. "Which is why it's important to keep hold of one of these."

Stephen had Clea's sling ring attached to his belt. As he'd slept, her ring had settled next to his own. He pulled both of them free, slid one onto his knuckles, and handed the other one over to Clea. She placed it on her own fingers with solemn formality.

"I don't even know how to use a sling ring," she said.

"It's easy." He moved to stand beside her. "Think of a place here inside the Sanctum you know well. Visualize it in your mind."

Seconds passed. "Got it," she said.

With his hands on hers, he showed her the basics of creating a portal. But try as she might, she couldn't draw on the Eldritch energy to give her spell power.

Before he could ask if she wanted to try again, her hands wove a different gateway spell, this one with bright purple light. Her fingers twisted in the opposite direction of the Eldritch gateways he was so familiar with. To his surprise, Clea seemed to know this spell by heart. Her hands moved independently of his own.

Stephen dropped his hands and allowed her to work. Had she learned all of this from only one night of study? He watched in stunned silence as the dark spell parted to reveal a gateway straight into her bedroom. She stepped inside and turned back, a huge smile on her face. "Are we still inside the Mirror Dimension?"

He nodded. He didn't trust his voice. Before he could ask her how she had used a spell from the Book of Cagliostro so effortlessly, Clea walked back through to his bedroom. Her gateway shut behind her.

"So, can we try another dark spell now?" she asked excitedly.

He couldn't believe how quickly she was ready to advance. During his early years of training, Stephen had been thrilled just to create a functional gateway. And that had been with the threat of freezing to death looming over him. "We can try a spell from the Book of Cagliostro if you'd like, but I want to warn you that these types of spells are not normally done, even by masters. Most sorcerers consider their use blasphemy against the natural law."

Clea looked shaken. "Then why have me try them?"

"Because you're not human. Because, unlike Eldritch spells which originate from mortality, dark spells originate from a place beyond time."

She lowered her hands. "Trying one of these dark spells won't corrupt me, will it?"

He hesitated. Her eyes were full of unbridled trust for him as a teacher. Kaecilius's corruption from these types of spells, as well as his ultimate betrayal, entered Stephen's thoughts. Should he tell Clea about what happened to Kaecilius and his zealots? Or about how Kaecilius killed the Ancient One because of this exact type of magic she was about to try?

"I don't know what these spells will do to you," Stephen replied truthfully. "I only know the practice of them can corrupt humans. But not all humans have been tainted by using dark magic. The Ancient One drew on this kind of power in order to live for centuries with no ill effects on her body or psyche."

"Have you ever tried these?" she asked gently.

"Only when I had to," he admitted. "And Wong gave me a litany of lectures afterward."

Stephen exited the Mirror-verse, and Clea followed. Thoughts of Wong pulled at his mind, making him feel the urgent need to _do_ something, to find his lost friend and fellow sorcerer.

"You look guilty," she surmised. "It is because you're teaching me?"

"The last time I spoke to Wong, it didn't end well, but my guilt isn't in teaching you. I want to find him. I've checked the cauldron twice after Agent Coulson left. I even meditated before I went to sleep. But still… I've found nothing."

Clea went back to his desk. She closed the Book of Cagliostro and replaced it on its shelf. Her fingertips rested on the spine of the book, her head bowed as if in prayer. He could feel her remorse from across the room.

"Clea…"

She met his eyes.

"Sometimes you have to break the rules in order to serve the greater good. Even Wong knows that, but there is something he doesn't know, and that is the fact that your becoming a sorcerer will not end badly."

"How can you possibly know what will happen once I start using magic, especially considering where I come from?"

He didn't answer her.

Clea sighed and finally came toward him. "I can't use magic from Earth and other living dimensions, Stephen. Every time I try, it feels like I'm trying to swim upstream with white water rapids beating me back."

"A wise woman once told me you can't beat a river into submission. You must surrender to its current, but not here. It's not safe." He held up his hands, one of which still held his sling ring. "It's your turn now, Clea. Create an entrance to the Mirror Dimension."

Clea raised her hands. The air around them started to split.

"Wait!" A man's hoarse voice cried out from behind them.

The Mirror verse dissolved away. Stephen turned toward the sound, and stared in shock.

"Wong!"

Stephen raced to his friend, his hands already creating the spell to drop the enchantments around the threshold. As he worked, he saw Wong try to form a portal, but no magic came from his hands. Wong fell to his knees with a cry of defeat.

The shield around his room wavered as Stephen held back its defenses. He formed a portal for Wong to enter before the barrier could power up again. Grabbing the older sorcerer, they fell through the gateway and collapsed on his bedroom floor. Stephen lifted his hand from where it had supported Wong's back. It was covered in blood.

Stephen sucked in a breath. "Clea…" His eyes looked to her, pleading.

As if reading his mind, Clea nodded. "I'll get medical supplies."

She formed her own portal, this gateway dark to his golden one, and stepped through. The Cloak of Levitation whipped right after her before it closed.

"Wong." Stephen knelt down, mentally assessing the physical wounds on his friend's body. "What happened?"

"Mordo," Wong gasped. "Stole… my magic."

Stephen felt all the air leave his lungs. "What?"

"Mordo… sucked power from me… kept it for himself."

"Where is Mordo now?" Stephen words were as sharp as a blade.

Wong shook his head. "I… don't know. It was after… I went to Illuminati headquarters."

"The Illuminati?" Stephen helped lift Wong from the floor, and eased the older sorcerer on top of his bed. Stephen knew only the basics of the Illuminati, an elite organization that attempted to guide the economic policies and governance of countries around the world. It was composed almost entirely of inhumans or those with special abilities, but they seemed altruistic in their endeavors. Professor Charles Xavier was among its members, and while Stephen had only met the Professor once, he came away from that encounter with the upmost respect for him and his "school for gifted youngsters."

Wong nodded weakly. "Had to get the Eye… away from Nepal…"

"The Eye of Agamotto is safe?"

"For now, yes. Did you know that… some idiot in the Illuminati… wants to… give you admittance?"

Stephen smiled. "It must be my charming personality."

Wong gasped out a laugh. Stephen could tell his friend was bearing hanging onto consciousness. The pillow behind Wong's head was now covered with sweat.

"What about the books in Kamar-Taj, the ones in the Masters section?" Stephen asked.

"Professor X… has them. In his… home. Protect the Eye first… then knowledge… And Mordo… he found me after…"

"What's happening, Wong? How can Mordo even steal power from other sorcerers?"

Wong moaned, and succumbed to his pain.

A burst of purple light flashed through Stephen's bedroom. He pivoted, ready for a fight, but it was only Clea coming with antiseptic, bandages, and tape.

"I didn't know what to bring," she gasped. Her arms struggled to carry the supplies. She dropped them next to Stephen. "The cloak helped me find all of this."

"You both did amazing. It will do for now."

Stephen worked quickly to stop the bleeding on Wong's back. His old friend's face was bruised, but most of the superficial cuts had stopped on their own. Stephen sanitized and bandaged what he could. When he was finished, he checked Wong's vitals. His friend breathed steadily, his pulse was strong. He would live, assuming no one came to finish him off.

"Clea?" Stephen was reluctant to ask her for any more favors, but he had to.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked. "More bandages? Or maybe some water?"

"No, I think Wong will be all right for now. I have to ask you to do something for me."

"Name it."

He smiled. She seemed so confident. But her inexperience could very well be her undoing. "I have to find Mordo. Which means leaving Wong. Can you watch over him for me? Make sure he rests so his body can heal?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Mordo is stealing mystic power from sorcerers," Stephen said. He darted to the Cauldron of the Cosmos and leaned inside its depths.

"Mordo can do that? How?"

"I don't know."

Clea observed Stephen. A mixture of quiet acceptance and apprehension rested on her face. He forced himself to turn away as he spoke clearly into the cauldron. "Where is Mordo now?"

His voice echoed back at him from the bottom of the cauldron. Purple mists drifted out and filled the room. Stephen waved it away as light flared from the bottom. As the flash of light dimmed, Stephen finally glimpsed Mordo.

The traitorous sorcerer strolled inside the Kamar-Taj, kicking through what was left from fluttering pages of novice texts. Mordo seemed to sense he was being watched, and looked up at Stephen. He smiled.

Hatred filled Stephen's soul. He forced himself away from the cauldron. "I have to go." Stephen formed a portal as the Cloak of Levitation attached herself to his shoulders. He glanced back at Clea. "Wait for me. You're going to be okay."

She nodded. "It's not me I'm worried about."

At first he thought she was talking about Wong, but her eyes betrayed her feelings. Stephen dropped the gateway, and strolled up to her. He touched her face, caressing the soft skin of her cheeks.

The cloak gave him a push, so hard he almost crashed into Clea.

"Subtle," Stephen muttered to the cloak on his back. "Real subtle."

He didn't kiss Clea. Maybe he should have, but he couldn't read her face. And thanks to the interference from the zealous cloak behind him, that level of affection felt wrong now. Instead, he pulled Clea close and held her to him. He breathed, and she breathed with him. He felt her relax in his arms.

"I'll be fine." They were the only words he could think of to reassure her.

She didn't let go of him.

Stephen brushed his lips against the top of her head. He closed his eyes, and merged his aura with hers. A wave of comfort left his spirit. It spread a blanket of warmth around her, filling her with strength. All the emotions he had locked away inside he now gave to her. She squeezed him in a tighter embrace.

She absorbed the gift, and her fear stilled. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome." He pulled himself away from her, and emptiness took the place of her presence.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "Make sure Wong doesn't do anything stupid."

Stephen reformed his gateway into the Kamar-Taj and hurried through before his heart could change his mind.


	26. Chapter 25

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Clea read a few more pages from the Book of Cagliostro, but she couldn't concentrate. Her eyes darted from the Sanskrit on the page to where Wong lay injured and unconscious on the bed. She tried time after time to resume her reading, but it was no use. With a sigh, she closed the book. The antique clock on the wall said it was after 4:30AM.

Under normal circumstances, she'd put the book back on its special shelf and head to her bedroom, but she wasn't about to leave Wong. If anything happened to him while he was under her care, she'd never forgive herself.

Wong twitched on the bed, his eyes shut tight.

Clea slowly walked over to him. She checked the bandages Stephen had placed on Wong's arm. They held firm. No blood had seeped through. But it was Wong's back that had gotten the worst of Mordo's rage. With a light touch, Clea placed her hand under Wong's side and tried to roll him.

Wong's eyes flew open.

Clea jerked back, startled. "Wong?"

The sorcerer blinked several times, shook his head as if to clear it.

"Wong? Are you okay? It's me… Joanna. Well, Clea, technically. Do you remember talking to me last month? About the Dark Gem?"

Wong squeezed his eyes shut. He shifted on the bed, groaning as his injured body changed position.

"Stephen told me to watch over you. He left to find Mordo…"

Wong bolted straight up in bed.

Clea yelped and jumped a mile.

In a flash of speed that beguiled Wong's injuries, the sorcerer grabbed Clea's arm. "Go to him." He spaced his words out carefully, deliberately, as if every one held great importance. "Your power can help him."

Clea took a deep breath, trying to hold it together. "Stephen is Sorcerer Supreme. I've never even cast a spell…"

"He's coming!"

"Who?" Clea asked, her heart racing. "Stephen?"

"Not Stephen." Wong collapsed back onto the bed.

"Mordo?" Clea's eyes fell to the spells around the doorway of the bedroom. Stephen had said they'd been cast by the first caretaker of the Sanctum, that they would ward off any attacks, but what about an assault from a rogue sorcerer who could suck magic away from anyone and anything? What chance would the Sanctum's defenses have against someone like Mordo now?

"Mordo isn't coming." Wong's voice was raspy now. He closed his eyes.

Clea blew out a long breath as her heart rate slowed. Maybe Wong was having a nightmare.

"It's Dormammu," Wong whispered. "Dormammu is coming."

A rush of memories drenched Clea's mind. Feelings of being helpless and trapped inside the darkness, along with the vague image of her mother's face peering at her through the haze of recollections.

"Save Stephen." Wong's voice was so soft she almost didn't hear it.

Clea pulled away from where Wong lay helpless on the bed, feeling sick. She and Wong were safe inside this room, weren't they? But if Stephen was in trouble, especially if he was facing someone from the Dark Dimension like Dormammu, he would need her abilities, what little there were. He could've never survived the black spells of the Mindless One inside the Kamar-Taj without her.

She made up her mind.

Clea curled her fingers into a fist, feeling the grooved edges of the sling ring. She'd seen Stephen form a portal into the Kamar-Taj. The cauldron had told Stephen that Mordo would be there, and Clea didn't want to interfere. But if Wong said Dormammu was coming, if Stephen needed her…

Her gaze rested on the doorway. She couldn't go out that way. She had no idea how to lower the defenses around the threshold.

She sighed. "A gateway it is."

Clea raised her hands and pictured the library of the Kamar-Taj, the one room she was most familiar with. The image formed in her mind, and she could feel dark power being drawn into her as she created the gateway. Purple lines shot from her fingertips and her sphere grew in size. She took a deep breath and stepped through.

The library of the Kamar-Taj was deathly still. Rays of sunlight streamed in from the gaping hole in the wall, courtesy of the Mindless One who'd been sent to spy on her. Wooden beams lay scattered on the floor, but whether it was from the battle they'd had here yesterday or from Stephen's current war with Mordo, Clea couldn't say.

She tiptoed deeper into the library, her eyes scouting for Stephen. She wanted to call out to him, but didn't dare attract attention. Scattered pages fluttered around her feet as a gust of wind blew through the open wall. After a few minutes of using her natural senses and finding nothing out of the ordinary, Clea gave herself permission to close her eyes and reach out with her mind.

Someone human was nearby, in the courtyard.

She wasn't too late to help Stephen then. Clea smiled and picked up her pace.

The entrance to the library spilled out onto the cobblestone of the central courtyard, but Clea wasn't foolhardy enough to rush out into the open. She reached the wood beam awning that served as a door, and stayed in the shadows to see who was walking out in the open.

No one was there.

Clea reached out again to find the human presence.

The person had moved back into the library.

She frowned. How had they managed to move that quickly? Had they formed a gateway?

With tentative precision, Clea turned around and crept down an aisle of the library. The presence she sensed couldn't be Stephen, could it? He would have felt her here by now and said something to her, even if it was in anger at her leaving Wong…

Clea was so preoccupied with her thoughts she didn't pay attention to where she walked. Her foot landed on a splinter of wood. It snapped in two. The crisp sound filled the library.

The presence near her stopped cold. And so did she.

Clea held her breath, waiting for the person to speak up, but only silence echoed through the library. While she was no coward, she wasn't about to move until she knew _exactly_ who she was facing.

She was still in that holding position when the presence somehow appeared directly behind her.

Clea pivoted.

Mordo raised an eyebrow at her. "We meet again, I see."

She swallowed her gasp, and made her voice sound as strong as she could. "Where is Stephen?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. He was here, we fought, and then he vanished." He titled his head to the side as he regarded her. "But I _do_ know that you shouldn't be here."

Mordo smiled. It was the kind of smile that might have been tender at one point in his past, but now held remnants of violence just waiting to be unleashed. His eyes slowly drifted from her face and down to her hands.

Clea stopped breathing.

He had seen her sling ring.


	27. Chapter 26

**A/N: Fair warning: this is a pretty violent chapter, helping to give this story its "T" Rating.**

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Clea didn't think. She just ran.

She knew her limited abilities were no match for Mordo, especially if his idea of fighting was to suck power away from his opponents. If Mordo could drain Clea, how much dark power would he gain?

Gripping her sling ring tight against her knuckles, she darted around bookshelves still standing against the onslaught from the Mindless One and around shattered desks forming obstacles in her path. Her senses were on high alert, and all the little details of the Kamar-Taj library seemed heightened to her: the scarred edges of the chairs, the metal chains hanging from empty shelves in the masters section. The links of those chains clinked together as she ran past, making a haunting melody that echoed through the room.

Clea lifted her hands in front of her, frantically trying to form a portal back inside Stephen's bedroom, or anywhere inside the Sanctum where she would feel safe, but it was no use. She couldn't focus long enough to form the vision in her mind's eye. So, she kept running.

From behind her, Clea heard Mordo laugh. "Not ready for a fight, are you young one?"

She could hear his footsteps advancing on her. His tread was slow and steady as he moved toward her, like he had all the time in the world.

He was toying with her, Clea realized. Well, that was fine with her. She'd take any advantage she could get.

As she raced around the corner, she saw the entrance to the New York Sanctum directly in front of her. The silver seal glowed like a lighthouse beacon welcoming her home. Clea propelled her feet forward and through.

The air shimmered as she made it past the gateway, but she didn't stop to rest. She ran for the main staircase, afraid to turn around to check if Mordo had followed. Her breath came in heavy gasps. Halfway up, she slowed her pace down to a trot. If she didn't get some more air into her lungs, she'd collapse.

Everything was still. Mordo hadn't followed.

She stopped in the middle of the staircase to catch her breath, gulping air like a deep-sea diver desperate for oxygen. Her vision blurred slightly, and she swallowed hard trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Stephen wasn't at Kamar-Taj. Mordo had said he vanished. It didn't make sense. Mordo could be lying, but that didn't change the fact Stephen was gone.

 _Save Stephen,_ Wong had said. _Your power can help him._

But how in the hell could she do that if she couldn't even find him? Clea closed her eyes, concentrating on the energies around the Sanctum.

Someone was coming. She could feel it. She reached out to touch the aura…

It wasn't Stephen.

Acting purely on instinct, Clea raced for the second floor. Someone was darting up the stairwell, right at her heels. Clea risked a glance behind and saw Mordo. The sorcerer's boots thumped on the stairs. Then, noticing her fear, he grinned like he was amused at her apprehension. He jumped toward her.

And Clea almost halted in dead shock. Mordo vaulted through the air with boots emitting a golden glow.

 _His relic lets him walk on air? Freaking fantastic._

No time for reflection or self-pity now. Clea kept going, hoping to make it to the sharp turn on the second floor and retreat into Stephen's bedroom.

But Mordo sensed where she was heading. With a twist of his hips, his boots vaulted him to the right, cutting her off from the corridor of bedrooms.

Clea jerked around to the left. The third floor was her last hope.

At least Wong would remain safe, she reasoned. Mordo couldn't get to Wong if he was busy trying to kill her. It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

At the top of the stairs stood the Chamber of Relics. Clea's vision had narrowed, blocking out everything but the way ahead. The objects seemed to grow larger as she got closer to her goal.

Almost there…

The sound of a whip lashed out from behind. Clea heard and felt the object at the same time it tripped her. She landed hard on the stairs.

"The staff of the living tribunal," Mordo said by way of explanation.

Clea turned her head with a moan, staring at the magical staff in his hand. Mordo kept coming up the steps behind her, going more slowly now that she was under his control.

"I have two relics on my person as well as the strength of my convictions," Mordo said softly. "What do you have with which to fight me?"

"The will to survive, asshole," Clea replied. Determination forced her to her feet.

Mordo chuckled. "You sound just like your teacher. He, too, was stubborn."

Clea pivoted, darting up the remaining steps into the Chamber of Relics. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she knew she had to try something. At least there were weapons here. If this was her last stand, she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"The time for mercy is past," Mordo said. "Are you sure you want to fight me, child?"

"I'm _not_ a child." Clea closed off her mind from the fear threatening to overwhelm her. When her hands stopped trembling, she rotated her wrists to create an attack she'd learned from the Book of Cagliostro.

But she never got to finish her spell. Mordo slammed his staff into her. Clea didn't even have time to dodge the strike. The blunt force of the weapon hitting her legs made her cry out in pain. She spun, yet somehow remained on her feet.

"You are strong," Mordo said. "And still young. Are you sure you want to die for a life you scarcely know?"

Clea didn't answer. She moved around the glass enclosure of a nearby relic. She half-expected Mordo to use his staff to break the glass and shower her with its shards. But he was too smart for that. Instead, he moved when she moved, waiting with the patience of a snake taunting its next meal.

Eldritch magic wouldn't help her. She didn't have enough experience to fight him with those spells, but she could try some of the darker ones she'd learned from her reading. She could remember most of them by heart. She lifted her hands…

Mordo attacked before she could even form a thought. He created an Eldritch whip, almost as a mocking gesture for her incompetence, and lashed out with righteous fury. The golden links caught Clea's wrist. With a jerk, Mordo threw her against the brass stand of the relic to her right. Her body slammed into the object. Pain shot through her. She groaned.

"I'm… not… giving up." Clea lifted the hand that held her sling ring.

Mordo's eyes softened in pity right before he slammed his staff into her wrist.

Clea screamed.

She had no idea how much Stephen had held back, how gentle he had been when training her, until Mordo assaulted her with all the force of his power behind it. The bones in his wrist snapped under the weight of Mordo's blow. Her unscathed hand cradled her injured wrist as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I almost feel sorry for you," Mordo said. "You have no idea why you're even dying, do you?"

From the corner of her eye, Clea saw the Dark Gem. It vibrated, flickering with that strange blackness inside that was the opposite of light.

Without even knowing where the thought had come from, a spell suddenly formed in her mind. Clea threw it at Mordo with her good hand before the spell had fully formed. It looked like some sort of dark spear.

Mordo's Eldritch shield came up just in time. His golden Eldritch magic battled with her dark spell, and for the briefest of moments, Clea believed her magic might win.

But she was wrong. The Eldritch light blazed against her spear. Mordo grunted as he was forced back, but his shield held. Clea's dark spear blew apart.

"So, you have progressed in your tutelage after all." Mordo didn't sound like he was playing games any longer. His eyes were black with rage.

Clea tried to summon another dark spell, but even as her hands came up Mordo constructed a second Eldritch shield. Her mouth went dry as she saw it form. Unlike his last shield, this one wasn't designed for defense. It had sharp edges and the twisting patterns of a sadistic steel trap. He lifted it and slammed it into her. The sides razed against Clea's face before trailing down her body. She fell to her knees as blood pooled around her.

With her last reserve of energy, Clea tried to defend herself. She raised her arms even with the pain of her broken wrist. Mordo shook his head at her feeble attempt. He kicked her shoulder, so hard she was thrown several feet backwards. She felt something pop, the pain so great she couldn't even gather the strength to scream.

"This is how it ends, child." Finality sung through Mordo's words as he stood above her.

It was over.

All Clea wanted was to sleep, just sleep and give her body over to the numbing exhaustion coursing through her veins. She lay on the floor, her chest heaving with every breath. She didn't have the power to fight anymore. The courage Stephen had placed in her had died, beaten out of her by the man who had taught him. A circle of mystic ability, passed from generation to generation, but was now as weak and unsustainable as Clea was here on this floor. That fact cemented itself in her mind, filling her with a tragic sense of irony and unbearable sadness.

Mordo rotated his hands. Clea could feel a pull inside her almost like he was trying to remove something invisible from her body. His forehead was creased with his exertion. Clea somehow found that funny, the way he looked like he was working so hard to kill her. She closed her eyes and waited for the strange and inevitable pull inside that would separate her spirit from her body. Death was only a breath away, Clea knew. It hovered right next to her. She wondered if there was a heaven, and if she'd see Sophie there. She hoped so.

But death wouldn't come. She opened her eyes, wondered why she still lived.

Mordo frowned. He squeezed his hands into tight fists as he yanked, trying harder to rip something apart from deep inside of her. But whatever Mordo wanted to take hold of remained elusive.

"Why… won't… your magic… come… out?" Mordo panted.

He was trying to take her magic then. All the dark magic and potential resting inside of her was about to be his. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Mordo continued to strain for her abilities, as if they were simply a locked door he could force open. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping from his face and neck. Finally, his arms fell back to his sides.

"Fine," he said. "Just death for you, then."

Mordo took aim for her heart. Clea turned her head, unwilling to see how she was about to die. Her eyes locked on the Dark Gem only a few feet away. It pulsed with a furious beat, flashing a continuous pattern. Insight flared inside Clea.

"It's speaking to me," Clea whispered. "I know what it's saying now."

"Shut up." Mordo conjured a spell, so angry in its intensity it seemed to shimmer scarlet. It flew from his hands.

The spell never made it to Clea.

The Dark Gem burst from its enchanted glass containment. It sailed through the air and hurled itself right into Clea's chest. The gem landed between her clavicles. As soon as the gem hit her skin, Clea felt her strength return. Her wrist and shoulder guided back into their rightful place. Her bleeding stopped. Clea rose to her feet.

"You!" Mordo stumbled back. "You're the one bringing the darkness!"

"If you say so." Clea opened her hands. The deep violet swirls of black magic swirled around her fingertips. She looked up into Mordo's bewildered expression and smiled.

She threw a spell, one she'd never read in any of Stephen's books. Dark energy whipped out of her hands. The force punched Mordo in the chest and remained there. He grunted, raising his hands to counter the next spell she conjured.

But Clea was too fast. Power flowed through her body. It finished healing her wounds, filling her with a strength she never knew existed. More dark energy, even stronger than the last spell, left her fingers. The power was incredible. She had no idea where it came from, whether it was the Dark Gem alone or the power trapped inside her just now released. Clea just knew she felt complete.

Mordo staggered deeper into the Chamber of Relics. His body folded over to protect his center.

"Where is Stephen?" Clea asked.

At the reprieve from his agony, Mordo lifted his eyes to her. "Gone. Vanished. I told you…"

She attacked him again, just once, with a purple chain that looked remarkably like an Eldritch whip. Mordo moved quickly to block it, but Clea's spell was too strong. The black magic wrapped itself around Mordo's counterspell before it fully formed, extinguishing it.

With a push of her hand, Clea formed another chain. It struck Mordo in the shoulder, in the same place he'd struck her. He wailed in pain and fell to the floor in a heap. Defeated.

Mordo glanced up at her, accusation in his gaze. " _You_ did this. You called the darkness."

"No, I didn't. It was always inside me."

And it was true. She hadn't realized it was the truth until she'd spoken it aloud. She had always been Clea, an orphan but an immortal being forced to live inside the rules of this strange planet. Without any family, without hope. Until now.

Mordo clasped a hand to his side. Blood poured from his flesh, a mortal wound even though Clea had no idea how she knew this. He wobbled to his feet, staggered, bumped against a glass enclosure from a relic and almost fell. He regained his feet, stumbled again.

Clea followed him warily, her hands holding Mordo's death between her fingers. She was ready to deal the final blow if she had to. Not that she was looking forward to it. She didn't want to kill anyone, even him.

Then Mordo disappeared.

She stopped and stood perfectly still. The Dark Gem inside her vibrated softly, as if seeking for him, too. Clea closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. Mordo had vanished, just as Stephen had supposedly vanished, but she sensed it wasn't the same. Mordo hadn't gone through a dimensional gateway, but he had traveled somewhere away from the Sanctum.

Clea felt the gem whisper to her. Mordo hadn't traveled through space, darting across the earth like Stephen did with his multitude of gateways, the gem said. Mordo was somewhere on Earth though. She was sure of it. His energy signature remained tied to the planet, but not at this moment in time.

Clea smirked. Mordo hadn't sought refuge in space, then, but through time. She knew it was true, but how she knew she couldn't say. It was as if she and the Dark Gem were one.

She focused her thoughts on Mordo, and an image appeared in her mind. She saw him collapse, the only human being alive, in the center of some sort of field. She formed the dark sphere of her portal almost instantaneously.

As soon as she walked through her gateway, she saw him. Mordo lay on his side in a golden field of barley from some time in the past. His blood tainted the tender stems. Clea watched as his body absorbed the life force from the living plants all around him. His power grew as he sucked the healing force from the untainted earth.

"So _that's_ how you do it," Clea breathed.

Mordo jerked his head backward to stare at her in disbelief.

"Sorry, Mordo. You're not getting away that easily."

"How... how did you find me?"

Clea didn't reply. She grabbed Mordo by the stiff collar of his cloak. The power he'd stolen flowed from his core and into hers.

"I don't know where Stephen is!" Mordo gasped.

"Maybe not," Clea conceded. "But I'm not leaving you here to heal and find him before I do."

Mordo fell limp under her grip. In her mind, she pictured Stephen as he had looked before he had left her. His formal blue attire, the Cloak of Levitation on his back… The image entered her mind.

Clea wasn't surprised when a gateway opened before her. It seemed natural, inevitable even, that her powers had grown this strong. The Dark Gem hummed against her chest. Beyond the gateway, she saw the Dark Dimension. Memories itched inside her mind as a shudder ran through her. If Stephen was here, it had to be against his will. But she wasn't afraid. Not anymore.

Mordo trembled from where she held him by his cloak. "Not inside there," he moaned. "Dear God, please don't take me there."

"This is where Stephen is. I know it. And if Stephen is trapped inside here, then so are we."

With all her newfound might, Clea tossed Mordo into the portal. She followed behind him as the Sanctum she loved and the Earth itself closed tightly behind her.


	28. Chapter 27

**A/N: More T-rated violence in this chapter.**

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Stephen awoke inside absolute darkness. He blinked, tried to put his hands in front of his face but found he couldn't move his arms or his legs. He attempted to twist, but he was frozen in place. He inhaled, tasting the dark magic in the air around him. Vivid memories flew to the forefront of his mind. His stomach clenched in apprehension. He knew exactly where he was.

A voice, deep and deadly, spoke. "You _stole_ from me."

The voice was so absolute in its depth it vibrated through Stephen's entire body.

"Dormammu," Stephen pushed back his fear to force a joke from his lips. "I think you've broken our bargain."

Blinding pain slashed through Stephen's core. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was being ripped apart. He cried out in agony, primal screams that lasted until long after the pain stopped.

Stephen coughed to clear the rawness from his throat.

 _"You stole from me!"_

He tried to think of a way to gain his freedom without signing his own death certificate. The Eye of Agamotto wasn't here to help him this time. Prolonging the conversation seemed the best way to keep the torment at bay. "What exactly did I steal?"

A rhetorical question. Stephen had a pretty good idea what had triggered Dormammu's wrath. All the black spells, all of the dark magic he'd encountered over the last year… all of it had centered around Clea. The last thing Stephen wanted was a repeat of Dormammu's torture, but he wasn't about to say anything that would endanger her.

Liquid fire rippled through him, each flame like a wave that refused to recede. The pain, even fiercer this time, sliced through Stephen's mental defenses like a hot knife through butter. It took every ounce of Stephen's willpower not to beg for death.

The last time Stephen had been inside the Dark Dimension it had been his choice. And although it had been the right one, he'd grieved his decision almost as soon as the cloak had lifted him from that Hong Kong street. Dormammu had found sadistic, almost ingenious, ways of killing him. Stephen had felt his body ripped apart, had found his eyes pierced through to lodge inside his brain, had felt his limbs being torn off one by one… Dormammu was nothing if not creative in his sadism. And the knowledge of what was coming didn't make facing it any easier.

Another round of agony began. This time it felt like electric shocks raging uncontrollably through his head. Searing heat leapt from his brain stem, rushing through his spine and finally ending its journey to nest inside his heart. Stephen screamed until tears coursing down his face.

As he wept, a feminine voice, so sweet and soft he convinced himself he must be imagining it, spoke against his ear. "Dormammu, this is no way to treat our guest."

The pain ceased.

Stephen gasped, inhaling the temporary reprieve. All at once, his bonds came off. With a hesitance born from years of healthy skepticism, Stephen stayed perfectly still, not willing to believe this was anything except a trick. But nothing happened. Stephen flexed a leg. Slowly, he stretched out his hand. His arms moved freely in the darkness. Assuming he could summon enough energy to form spells, he now had the opportunity to fight, at least for as long as he was able. But not yet. Dormammu would be expecting that, and he needed to keep the advantage for as long as possible.

"You don't need to fight any longer, Stephen." That same soft soprano reverberated through his ears. He hadn't imagined the voice then.

A single light shone from deep inside the darkness, reminding him of the images he'd witnessed from Clea's mind seek. His eyes focused on that pinpoint of growing brightness. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the glare. A woman emerged from its light, a shadowy silhouette against the brilliance.

"Clea?" he whispered.

As his eyes adjusted, the woman came into sharper focus. It wasn't Clea. This woman was taller, her hair darker, and her eyes wide with fascination as she stared at him.

Stephen stood to his feet as she drew closer. He had a bad feeling this reprieve from Dormammu wasn't going to last long. A list of offensive spells categorized in the forefront of his mind as he waited to see what kind of threat this woman would pose.

The woman landed lightly next to him. Dark energy swirled around her, and Stephen braced himself for the attack he knew was coming.

"All you humans do is fight," the woman said.

So she could read his aura then. He wasn't surprised. Her delicate fingers grazed his cheek, as if enamored by the texture of his skin.

"Attack is a human's first response to fear, especially in the males of your species."

Her fingertips felt cool as her feathery touch moved to his jawline. The woman kept one hand cradled against his face while the other stroked his cheek. The rhythmic motion of her fingers was calming, almost trance-like. Stephen snapped his mind back to reality. He couldn't afford to be lured into complacency here. It was far too dangerous.

"Who are you?" Stephen asked.

The woman's smile was razor-then. "You know who I am. And I made a terrible mistake. I want my daughter back."

"You're Clea's mother. Umar." It wasn't a question.

Her smile narrowed even further. She slid her hands from his face to his chest and pressed against him. "You know my name?" she purred.

"I read it in a scroll from the Ancient One. I'm sure you remember her." He kept his voice flat so Umar had no emotion to feed on. "You asked her to take your daughter away. I stole nothing, and neither did she."

Umar didn't so much as twitch, and Stephen remained perfectly still as he weighed her strength of sorcery against his. It would be a fair fight, but one he would lose. Dark energy radiated from her aura, wild and turbulent. Chaotic magic might not be as strong as Eldritch magic, but it was unpredictable and deadly. And Umar's eyes were wild with it.

"You can take your hands off me now," Stephen said.

Umar dropped her hands away from him and cocked her head to the side. "You are stronger than we thought."

 _We._ If Stephen had any doubts as to who was really speaking to him, they vanished in that moment. "On my planet, you'd be what we refer to as the good cop."

"Oh?"

"Dormammu plays the role of the bad cop, the enforcer. He comes in, roughs me up a bit, and then you come to sweeten the deal. But you both want the same thing: Clea."

 _"Give her to us."_ Umar hissed.

Stephen tsked at her. "You forgot to say 'please.'"

The agony that came this time wasn't from Dormammu but from Umar herself. It was no less painful. Stephen locked his jaw, refusing to give Umar the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

"You're the only one who knows where my daughter is," Umar said softly when the torment died away. "Which is why you still live."

"Clea is safe," Stephen gasped. "Just like you wanted. Isn't that enough?"

"It wasn't what _I_ wanted." Umar's voice went up an octave, piercing the thick air of the absolute dark surrounding Stephen. "It was a mistake, a terrible mistake, made in a moment of weakness."

Stephen could feel Dormammu's presence all around them, hovering far too close, like a controlling spouse glowering in the corner at a party. It might have been Umar speaking, but it was Dormammu's words he heard, not hers.

Without thinking of the ramifications, Stephen cast a spell to counter Dormammu's control over Umar. He threw the Eldritch light right at the woman's center. The golden light swirled, and for a moment, Stephen thought it might have entered far enough to release her. Instead, he watched in silent disbelief as his magic faded into meaningless wisps of vapor.

"That was foolish," Dormammu said.

Stephen didn't even bother to register how much his torture hurt this time.

"We know you had an Infinity Gem to shield you last time," Umar said when his screams faded. "You don't have it now. Do you want to die?"

"No," Stephen stammered. As much as he wished he could break the spell over Umar, he couldn't. The combination of both her and Dormammu's energies, especially inside the Dark Dimension, was too much unless he caught them unawares. And with both of them observing his every move, that wasn't going to happen. He tried to control the spasms of pain still wracking his body but failed. "No, I don't want to die here."

"Then allow my daughter to come home. At least give her the choice. You interfered when we felt her presence in one of your cities not long ago."

Stephen pushed himself to his hands and knees. He glared over at Umar. "The Calamity… that was you looking for Clea?"

In the dimness, Stephen saw Umar shake her head. It was such a human gesture; he couldn't tear his eyes away. "Not _looking_ for Clea, sorcerer. We _found_ her, and opened our dimension to bring her home. But she disappeared before our servants could bring her back. We tracked Clea to your New York, the center of black magical energy on your world."

"Clea's being there for the first time tipped the balance of energies," Stephen realized. "And you felt it."

"Yes," Umar said. "We placed perception spells all around your centers of pathetic earthly magic to find her again. Then we sent seekers, and when those were extinguished around your precious centers of sorcery, we sent in a Mindless One to find out why. What you did to him was… unkind."

Only someone from the Dark Dimension could take a seemingly innocuous word like _unkind_ and make it sound like a curse. "Actually, it was Clea who killed him."

"Mindless Ones don't really die the way you mortal creatures do. They disappear into the void until we need another, but you destroyed him altogether. How can we make another from his remains now?"

"The empathy for your servants is extraordinary," Stephen said sarcastically.

"They are born to serve a purpose, just as Clea and I were born to serve a purpose. When Clea comes, she and I will rule over the Earth together under Dormammu's absolute authority."

"If it's absolute, then you aren't really ruling are you?"

Even in the turmoil of the surrounding darkness, Stephen could sense her anger. "My daughter and I will finally be able to do what you humans could not do for so long: create a world of ultimate prosperity."

"I've heard this tune before," Stephen said. "And I get that you're being brainwashed, but try to think. Dormammu will _never_ give you autonomy."

"You know nothing about my brother."

"I know he's right next to us, listening and evaluating every word you say."

Umar's face softened for a moment. Her eyes flickered in remembrance, and Stephen saw the opening he was looking for. If magic couldn't save her, maybe reasoning could.

"I know you remember Clea, the little girl she was. She's a beautiful woman now, and she needs you in her life. But not like this, not in the role of tyrant. Ruling over earth wouldn't be her thing anyway."

And just like that, Umar's eyes snapped back to bottomless pits of darkness. "Liar!"

He anticipated another round of torment, and he wasn't disappointed. Umar cast a black spell centered on his groin. It was so intense Stephen actually stopped breathing. He had to hand it to Umar: she knew the male anatomy and preyed on its weaknesses.

"You are losing your usefulness," Umar said. "Clea's aura is all around you, clinging to you like a gravity well. We will only ask you one more time, and then you will die. Where is my daughter?"

These were to be his last words then. Stephen waited, catching his breath from the pain, savoring this last moment of life. "Clea is safely in a place where even your magic can't penetrate. She's never coming back here, and you'll never find her."

From far away, Stephen heard a familiar voice. "They don't have to find me," the voice said.

Clea?

Stephen turned to see his friend and only pupil coming toward them. Behind her, Clea dragged a terrified Mordo. Clea glided effortlessly through the Dark Dimension, looking content to be beside the dead planets and bursts of color that signified worlds still fighting to survive against Dormammu's darkness. The Dark Gem was attached to the skin below her neck. It pulsed with animated delight.

"I come willingly Mother," Clea said. She landed next to Umar and wouldn't meet Stephen's gaze.

Umar's smile was one of triumph. "Welcome home, child."

Stephen's heart sank. His usefulness was at an end.


	29. Chapter 28

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Clea refused to look at Stephen. She knew if she so much as glanced in his direction, she'd lose her nerve. Instead, she concentrated on holding tight to Mordo as he twisted beneath her grip. They glided through the Dark Dimension to land next to Stephen.

Clea's heart jumped into her throat at the sight of her mother, but she forced herself to remain calm. Clea couldn't see Dormammu, but she knew he was nearby, watching them. His presence was a cesspool of evil intent, suffocating the air around her. She threw Mordo down and took a deep breath.

"Uncle." Clea's voice carried through the darkness. "Mother." Her voice wavered on that last word.

"I see my niece has brought me a gift." Dormammu's deep voice rang out through the darkness.

Mordo scrambled to his feet, but Clea held him steady. "This one is barely worth your time," Clea said. "Mordo doesn't think too highly of sorcery, at least not anymore."

Mordo gained his feet. He grabbed at Stephen, his voice pleading. "We have to get out of here!" He wiped the sweat from his brow and crafted a Tao Mandalas shield. "For God's sake, Stephen, help me!"

But Stephen didn't move.

Mordo snarled. With the speed that surprised Clea, he threw a Eldritch dagger right at her.

Time slowed. Clea saw Stephen tense, ready to protect her. She tasted her mother's fear, felt her uncle's rage, but she wasn't about to let any of them fight her battles for her. Time was on her side here. Mordo just hadn't realized it yet. Clea lashed out with a counter-spell as black as pitch. The wave of dark energy decimated Mordo's spell and toppled him to the darkness beneath his feet. His body crumbled as he screamed in pain.

"This is what happens when you fight," Clea said. Her voice trembled as she tried to restrain all the power flowing over her. This dimension was thick with it, and all she wanted was more.

Stephen stared at Mordo, a look of pure pity on his face at the fate of his former friend. When Stephen's eyes drifted upward, Clea caught his gaze.

 _Stephen knows,_ she realized. _He wants to do something, anything, but he knows exactly what the penalty would be if he took any action, if he cast any spells._

So Stephen remained still. Whether to protect her or his own self-interests, she didn't know. She only knew he felt genuine hurt watching Mordo writhe in pain. It made her want to weep.

"You did well, niece," Dormammu whispered. "Your gifting of this 'Mordo' to me is well received."

Mordo fell to his knees. At first Clea thought he was about to beg for his life, but no. Dormammu forced him into a posture of submission, using the combination of gravity and the energy inside the Dark Dimension to paralyze his prey. Mordo shook with terror.

"Mordo believes this dimension to be corrupt and vile," Dormammu whispered. "I will enlighten him."

Mordo screamed in horror as his body slowly dissolved. His soul, however, remained intact. Clea watched with newfound grief as Mordo's physical body was sucked away. From somewhere in the reaches of the Dark Dimension, Clea could feel his consciousness materialize in the depths of a hellish torment only her uncle could contrive.

Clea caught Stephen's eye again, and the look on his face almost broke her. But she had to stay strong.

"Clea." Her mother strolled forward. She palmed Clea's face with her hands. They were ice cold. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Clea swallowed hard. _Stay strong._ "No, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. We're together now."

Her mother opened her arms and embraced her. Clea's body stiffened as if subconsciously distrustful of this new affection. But her mother refused to let go. Gradually, carefully, Clea relaxed until she finally collapsed in her mother's arms.

Tears fell from Clea's eyes. Waves of joy poured from her mother, joy at finding her, the thrill at them being reunited again. Her mother didn't hold it back, and Clea allowed herself to take it in and to mourn the woman she might have been if only she hadn't left her mother alone inside the darkness.

"I'm sorry I lost you," her mother murmured. "But you were meant to go to Earth. I see that now. You had to learn the magic from that dimension in order to faithfully serve in ours."

Clea couldn't speak.

Her mother pulled away, but kept her hands on Clea's face. "But you're home now."

Home. A home inside the Dark Dimension.

Stephen still hadn't moved, a wise choice but not without its downside. Clea could read the indecision on her teacher's face. Stephen wanted to fight, but knew doing so would cause his own death and maybe risk hers as well. He was a good man, she noted with sadness. Far too good for her. Heartbreak formed a bitter weight that settled inside her gut.

"I tried to fight the darkness," she whispered to Stephen. "I really did, but…"

Every word she spoke sounded hollow. How could she explain the force of Dormammu's will, or her desire to feel more of the dark magic swirling all around her? Stephen wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. Because he was human.

"I should stay here," Clea said.

Stephen shook his head. "Remember the mind seek, Clea. You can choose who you become…"

"The Sanctums will lay unprotected without you."

From behind Stephen, the Cloak of Levitation fluttered sadly. Clea's eyes filled with tears. She had to look away from it.

"Wong is still healing," she said. "He needs you…"

"I need you," Stephen said softly. "This is _not_ your home."

Clea touched the Dark Gem buried in her skin. "This is my birthright. It's a magnet for dark energy, just like I am."

"The Dark Gem is far more than that," Clea's mother purred, moving closer. "It's an anti-Infinity Gem, created to diminish the power of the Infinity Stones, and should the Dark Gem come into contact with one of the stones, it would absorb and replace it with its own dark power." A predatory smile grew on her mother's face.

Dormammu's presence came nearer, mirroring her mother's delight in destroying those stones. Clea shuddered. She remembered how terrible his wrath could be, and it was only a matter of time before it was directed at Stephen. She didn't have much time.

"Uncle, Mother…" Clea breathed in fresh courage. "I propose a trade."

To Clea it seemed the entire Dark Dimension grew silent, waiting for her next words. She would only have one chance to save herself. And Stephen.

"I know where the Time Gem is," Clea said. "The Eye of Agamotto. That's what humans call it."

Dormammu's rage was almost palpable now. He hated that gem, hated what Stephen had done to him with it. Dormammu wanted it back, to trap Stephen in eternal torment the same way he'd been trapped by him, before destroying it.

"Clea… don't." Stephen's voice sounded far away.

Clea started shaking. A tear fell from her cheek as she spoke. "Uncle, please mute this sorcerer so I can finish."

From the depths of the Dark Dimension came invisible bonds, each one a segment of black magic. They lashed around Stephen, tying his hands and feet, his tongue. Clea's eyes silently pleaded with him to understand right before Dormammu placed a dark spell over his vision. Stephen's eyes glazed over but stayed filled with sorrow.

"I also know where the Darkhold is," Clea said.

She watched Stephen have a visceral reaction to this. He strained against his bonds, but couldn't free himself.

"The Darkhold," her mother breathed. "We've felt its energy coming from the Earth just as we felt yours. Have you read it?"

"No, but with the combined power of the Time Gem and the Dark Gem, I'm certain I can free it. I can bring back all the magic that's been denied this dimension for centuries."

Stephen lurched against the magic surrounding him.

"You said you have a trade," Dormammu said. Clea could hear the hunger in his voice. "Name your price."

"No matter what happens with those gems or the Darkhold, I want to rule over Earth. Just me, with my mother's guidance. And I want Stephen to live. He was my teacher, and without him I wouldn't be standing with you now."

She could tell Dormammu wasn't thrilled by that last part of the trade. He wanted Stephen's spirit to be shattered. Dormammu's energy wavered over her deal, turning it over in his soul for any weaknesses. And there were many, Clea knew. She hadn't specified where Stephen would live, or how, but this was the only way she knew to free him.

Stephen jerked his body with an even greater urgency now, desperate to be free. Dormammu constricted his bonds to a death vise. Clea could feel Stephen terror as acutely as if it were her own. She could also feel Dormammu's triumph.

"It shall be done," Dormammu decreed.

Every particle of the Dark Dimension trembled as Dormammu spoke. Clea felt his words go out, forming a binding covenant to seal their deal.

Even though he couldn't see anything, Stephen must have felt the permanence of their agreement. He closed his eyes. The cloak collapsed.

Clea plucked a piece of dark magic from the air around her to create a gateway back to Earth. "I'll be back," she said.

"With the Darkhold?" her mother said expectantly.

"And the Time Gem?" Dormammu asked.

She could hear the anticipation in their voices, the desire for more darkness, more power. It mirrored her own.

"Don't worry," Clea said. "I'll find them."


	30. Chapter 29

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Stephen never saw Clea vanish, but he felt her leave. He lay helpless and alone inside the darkness, needing for her to return, for her to say it was all one big misunderstanding. Clea would come back, he was sure of it, and she'd create a dark spell to free him from the chaos.

But she didn't.

No help was coming, and there was no one to rescue him. Mordo was trapped here just like him, and was probably dead by now. And Wong… Even if Wong knew where Stephen was, he was without magic and far too wounded to help.

It was hopeless.

Time had no meaning inside the Dark Dimension, but every second seemed filled with anguish. He still had no use of his sense of sight, no way to fight back as he lay bound. He couldn't even scream since his tongue was bound by magic. Dormammu took him to the brink of death time and again, but never through its blessed doors of relief. As Stephen convulsed and screamed inside his mind, his only thoughts were of Clea.

He and Clea hadn't know each other long, but it had been long enough for him to care for her as a friend. Stephen wept for her lost potential as a student, and for the fact he'd allowed himself to care so easily for someone he'd barely known. The old Stephen wouldn't have been so naïve.

Some time later, Stephen felt Clea reenter the Dark Dimension. It could have been minutes, hours, or days later. Stephen had no way of knowing. She landed near him, that much he could sense. He tried to open his eyes, to see her one last time, but he couldn't thanks to Dormammu's spell.

"I have the Darkhold," Clea announced.

Stephen didn't believe her. He'd placed the Darkhold inside another dimension, and with all those protective defenses of pure white magic even he wasn't sure he could've opened its invisible casings.

Beside him, he heard Clea sigh. "I know you don't believe me, Stephen. I can feel it. Uncle, please allow him to see me. And to speak again. I'd _love_ to hear what he has to say."

The spell around his vision immediately ceased. At once Stephen could see again. The agony hovering around him lessened, and his throat relaxed. From around his neck, Stephen felt the Cloak of Levitation go limp with the reprieve from her own personal pain.

Stephen took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. Clea stood there with the Darkhold, a smirk on her face. His anger burned from his stomach back up into his throat as he watched her browse the pages.

"You're wondering how I did it," Clea said. "Aren't you?"

Stephen didn't trust his voice at first. He cleared his throat, and waited for his rage to pass. It would do no good here. "Yes."

"It didn't take long to release it. Apparently the Dark Gem can undo spells."

"Not even the Dark Gem can do that."

From deep inside Clea's gaze, he saw her confidence shift to an emotion far different. Fear. His words had triggered fear in her. She was hiding something, but he had no idea what.

Then, just like that, her gaze held only conviction. She licked a finger and turned to a random page. "I read through a lot of the Darkhold already. I honestly don't know what the big deal is." She flipped to the next page. "Most of this knowledge is elementary, especially when all the collective wisdom of this dimension is right here for the taking."

Clea's mother floated closer to the Darkhold. Stephen could see the lust for its contents on Umar's face.

Clea browsed for one more page and slammed the Darkhold shut.

Umar reached for the book, her hand shaking with urgency. "Give it to me."

Clea yawned. "This book is a waste of your time, Mother. It's not useful here, not when we have Dormammu's might behind us."

Stephen watched in shock as Clea created a portal to a distant part of the Dark Dimension and hurled the Darkhold through it. Umar cried out in uncontrollable rage. Clea's gateway began to close. Umar hurled herself through it, chasing the Darkhold. The gateway sealed, trapping Umar away from them.

Dormammu chuckled. "I always knew you were stronger than your mother," he said.

"Is she coming back?"

"Would you like her to?"

Clea shrugged. "She's my mother, but if she's that focused on some old book, maybe she's better off where she is."

"Where is the Time Gem?" Dormammu hissed. "I don't sense it."

"The Illuminati have it. I tried to reach it but failed." She gave him a sly smile. "I thought it might be fun to gain it together, introduce the Earth to our combined power."

If Stephen hadn't been bound, he would have fought them both. There was no way he would leave the Earth vulnerable to the Darkness, not as long as he remained alive, but he still couldn't move to fight.

Dormammu seemed pleased by Clea's suggestion. Waves of cruel pleasure rippled through the dark. "It shall be done. Once I have stopped time, you can rule over Earth under my will, and I will guide its journey into darkness."

Clea nodded. "But there's one more thing I still have to do."

The dimension itself seemed to shudder with Dormammu's anxious desire. "And that is?"

"I need to deal with my former teacher."

Dormammu stepped back, tacitly giving Clea permission.

Clea stepped closer to where Stephen lay prone and helpless. "Perhaps, uncle, you would allow me to be the one to torment him, at least once?" Her lips quirked into a sickening grin.

Stephen felt his bindings loosen, then disappear. He rolled, first to his hands and knees, testing his strength. He concentrated and pulled as much pure energy inside his aura as he could before standing to his feet.

If this was a farce on Clea's part, it was a damn good one. All he saw in her eyes was a fanatic confidence born of someone entrenched in their beliefs. He had mere seconds to make a choice: If he fought Clea, he'd go for a killing strike. There was no other way. And if Stephen killed her, he'd have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life, though his life wouldn't last long after her death. Once he murdered Clea, he'd face Dormammu's wrath. The chances of Stephen living through _that_ were slim at best.

Dormammu waited, allowing Stephen to make the choice. Maybe Dormammu hoped Stephen would kill her. If he did, all threats to Dormammu's power would be gone. And then Stephen would no doubt join Clea in death. Or he could trust her.

Stephen made his choice. "I won't fight you, Clea. If you want to kill me, then do it. You have all the power."

"I know," Clea whispered.

She pressed something into his hand. The object was circular, inflexible as granite, and soaked with power. As soon as the object hit his skin, he knew it was the Eye of Agamotto, encasing the power of the Time Gem. The links of the chain that held it caressed his fingers.

"It took both the Dark Gem and the Time Gem to release the Darkhold." She grinned. "Now let's use them!"


	31. Chapter 30

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In the span of a heartbeat, Stephen attached the Eye of Agamotto to his neck and opened it. Clea had never seen an Infinity Gem before today, never knew how much power they contained. Energy rippled from its core. The blast came close to knocking Clea off her feet.

Stephen's face was a mask of concentration as he placed a time loop spell onto his wrist. Before Clea could wonder at the complexity of the spell, she felt him pull her to her feet. A similar spell looped around her own wrist. He sealed the spell with Eldritch magic.

"Believe me, we don't want to fight Dormammu without the protection of time." Stephen grasped her hand and squeezed. "Are you ready?"

"No, but to hell with being ready. Let's do this."

The Cloak of Levitation snapped happily behind them.

A bellow of rage rang out from deep within the Dark Dimension. A black pit emerged. It swirled into a tornado towering hundreds of feet above them. The Dark Gem inside Clea pulsed, and Stephen's Infinity Gem glowed a brilliant emerald.

Dormammu attacked.

A spike of black energy, like an invisible dagger, flew toward them. The Cloak of Levitation scrunched itself into a tight ball behind Stephen's back, trying to get away. Clea had no idea if Stephen could see the spike, but she wasn't about to wait to find out. She formed a dark shield over Stephen and the cloak, bracing herself for the power of Dormammu's assault. Her spell protected them just in time.

The energy spike from Dormammu combined with Clea's shield. Clea groaned with the force of holding back the attack. Her heart pounded as the two energies combined. She was terrified her shield would falter, but instead it grew in size. Her dark shield swallowed up her field of vision, growing larger by the second. Clea pushed back against Dormammu's assault with a grin. It seemed his dark magic only made hers stronger. Dormammu's deadly spike vanished.

Clea glanced over at Stephen. "You okay?"

Stephen nodded even as the Cloak of Levitation trembled behind him.

Dormammu didn't wait for them to recover. He attacked again. This time a wave of dark energy came toward them like a tsunami.

Clea didn't want to consider what might happen if that much dark power touched Stephen or the Cloak of Levitation. She created a counter-spell before she could think. The violet light from her hands formed a wave all its own. It surged toward Dormammu's spell.

The two waves crashed together. For a moment, Clea wasn't sure hers would hold, but then it slowly began to eat away at Dormammu's tsunami, drowning it like a river devours a stream. Clea could feel the power from the combined waves in her hands, flowing up through her arms. She raised her arms above her head, still controlling the power, and slammed them down. The waves flew outward, disappearing to the ends of the Dark Dimension. Her arms dropped in exhaustion. She gasped out a breath.

"Your dark magic will eventually meld with mine, niece." Dormammu rose above Clea and Stephen with a snarl of rage. "And I can keep you here fighting me forever."

"He has a point," Clea said to Stephen. "Any ideas?"

"We need to attack from two sides. Cover me."

Stephen snapped upward. The Cloak of Levitation, no longer cowering in a defense posture at its master's back, billowed out behind him. Stephen twisted his hands and bright green geometric patterns curved to create a glowing shield. The outer layer of the Infinity shield he'd created turned one way while the inner workings twisted in the opposite direction.

 _He's going to fight Dormammu with time,_ Clea realized. Which left her wondering what the hell she was supposed to do.

She didn't have the luxury of wondering for long. Dormammu sensed the Time Gem coming near him. In a rage, he struck. Shards of dimensional space, invisible to human eyes, launched themselves at Stephen.

Without thinking, Clea raised her hands to form a shield to protect her teacher. She expected it to be purple like all her other dark spells, made from the same magic that came so easily to her, but the shield that formed in her hands was the golden color of living Eldritch magic.

Clea took up her Tao Mandalas shield and flew it toward Stephen. It sliced through the darkness, landing between him and Dormammu's spell. Dormammu's dimensional shards ripped into pieces as they hit the Eldritch magic. They scattered into space.

A laugh of relief and euphoria bubbled up inside Clea. She remembered Stephen's words to her when they had first trained. _"Eldritch energy will one day take the place of your body for defense or attack. Do you understand?"_

She hadn't understood then. She'd been trying to force light magic to bend to her will, but only black magic could be manipulated like that. In her ignorance, Clea had assumed dark magic would be her only legacy. But here, in the middle of battle, her spirit had known what to do. Light magic had flowed through her to protect them both.

Clea glanced over at Stephen. A brief smile passed his lips. He nodded at her accomplishment. She had never felt more proud.

Dormammu hissed and raised his arms for another assault of black magic on Stephen.

"Clea…" A soft voice whispered from behind her.

Clea bristled. When had her mother returned?

"My daughter…"

She refused to listen. "Shut up mother."

"Clea… embrace me."

Clea watched as her mother came to life right in front of her. Her mother's ageless face appeared first, a shimmer of silvery beauty inside the darkness. Then her lithe body stepped through another side of the Dark Dimension to where Clea waited.

"I don't have time for this!" Clea pivoted away from her mother.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clea saw Stephen launch a time spell toward Dormammu. His emerald shield remained lit but wavered in his hands.

Clea didn't hesitate. She launched an attack of her own. Eldritch magic blossomed from her. She crafted it into a deadly barbed net. It rose into the air, convulsing with energy. Clea hurled the light at her uncle.

A soft hand touched Clea's back.

Clea growled with annoyance. She snapped her head around to tell her mother to stop interfering, but the icy hands her mother placed on her locked into place. With a smirk, her mother _pulled_.

Clea screamed. It felt like every molecule in her body was being sucked out of her spine. She'd never experienced so much pain. Her Eldritch net dissipated into thin air as she fell to her knees.

"Clea!" From somewhere far away, Stephen yelled her name.

Clea grit her teeth. She hoped he was okay, that he was winning against Dormammu.

Her mother leaned down, caressing Clea's hair. "You can't leave me," she murmured. "Not again. I won't let you."

Through her tears, Clea glanced up and saw what her mother was doing. Clea's spirit was being drained from her physical body. From inside her chest Clea felt the Dark Gem pulse. She wasn't sure if it was trying to fight against her mother's spell or if the gem wanted to help it along. Her mother gathered Clea's ethereal form around her wrist to bind them together in the Dark Dimension for all eternity.

Clea's strength began to fade. She could see Stephen attempt to cast a time spell to reverse what her mother was doing, could see him trying to reach her, but Dormammu blocked Stephen at every turn.

In a short span of time, only the husk of her body would remain. Clea screamed with agony and tried to create an Eldritch spell to counter the dark magic her mother used. A gold spark shot from Clea's hand.

"No, child. Not this time."

Her mother raised her free hand to create a cage of black magic. Clea felt it form under her feet, moving upward. It froze her will to fight. As the spell moved higher, it pushed uncertainty and despair into her core. The cage sealed shut around her.

Clea's spirit dimmed. She began to doubt who she was, why she was fighting. It would be so easy to give in…

Stephen's voice called her back. "Clea, you need to fight it!"

Clea watched as Stephen used the Eye of Agamotto to deconstruct the dark spells Dormammu had whipped toward him. Clea was so proud of him. She wished she had half of his resolve, his courage. She glanced down at her wrist where Stephen had placed his time spell. The green patterns twirled around her skin.

"Fight, Clea!"

Clea closed her eyes and focused on the energy from the links tying her to the Infinity Gem. If anything could set her free from her mother's entrapment, it was the power of the Time Gem. Clea focused through the pain, but the cage held.

Clea refused to give up. She groaned in concentration. Her body shook with the effort. From deep inside her, she pushed against the darkness, against the agony of her broken spirit.

Her mother's trap vanished.

Her mother stepped back in surprise but held on to the wisps of Clea's spirit, slowly pulling it to her. "Clea…"

"Mother." Clea was no longer inside a mystic cage, but she knew she didn't have much time before her body withered away. "Mother, you have to let me go."

"No, Clea." Her mother tugged harder on the silvery strands of Clea's spirit.

"Last… chance…" Clea gasped.

Her mother glared and yanked harder.

Clea squeezed her eyes shut. Her arms curled around her dying body. She placed her wrist, still glowing with the power from the Time Gem, on her chest. The Dark Gem vibrated as the two powers began to combine…

Her mother's eyes went wide. "No!"

The Time Gem and the Dark Gem twisted together. The combined energy burst from Clea. She cried out.

An eruption of power, so fierce it shook the entire dimension, exploded from her. The combined energies grabbed onto Clea's spirit and snatched it away from her mother's shaking hands. It sucked Clea's spirit back inside her body with a _whoosh_ of energy.

Her mother tried to drop the link to Clea, but she didn't get away in time. Clea watched as the energy burst hit her mother. Her mother went completely limp and collapsed next to her. She didn't get up.

Stephen seemed to sense the energy blast coming. He turned. The Infinity Gem around his neck glowed brighter. An enchantment born of matter and time left Stephen's lips as he formed a defensive shield just in time. The energy burst swerved around him, giving Stephen a wide berth. It missed him completely. Stephen pivoted as he hovered in midair, gaping at the blast as it rushed away from him.

The blast hit Dormammu. The powerful force made his tangible form splinter. The time loops inside the energy particles of the blast burst apart. Power made of time, light, and Clea's spirit wrapped itself around Dormammu. Each link formed a chain so powerful Dormammu couldn't move. With a scream of defeat, he was sucked away. Clea watched her uncle's spirit fade until the last of his cries died in the darkness.

Clea shook as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Stephen landed next to her, the cloak rippling behind him.

She reached up to touch the Cloak of Levitation. "Good job, you two."

Stephen smiled. "You should get some of the credit, don't you think?"

Clea nodded. Nervous laughter filled with relief erupted from deep inside of her. Then her laughter changed to tears.

Stephen wrapped his arms around Clea. She crumpled against him, allowing the tears to come. He held her in the darkness, his hands stroking her back. His words of comfort were like a soothing balm to her soul, and Clea was suddenly grateful time didn't exist in this dimension.

From below them, a feminine cry of misery rang out.

Clea went completely still.

"Clea? Is that you?"

Clea pulled reluctantly away from Stephen. Her mother uncurled herself at Clea's feet. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, blinked again.

Her mother shook her head. "What happened? Clea…" Her gaze met Clea's, and recognition seeped in.

"Clea! My daughter!"

Before Clea could assess whether her mother's confusion was genuine, she was caught up in yet another embrace. This one wasn't as welcoming as Stephen's, but it was no less warm. Clea focused the energy from within her and let it flow outward. It left her body, tasting the air to test the sincerity of her mother. Only unconditional love answered back.

Her mother pulled away from Clea long enough to touch her cheek. "My daughter. You have come back."

She encased Clea inside another hug. Clea tried to push away, but her mother only held her tighter.

Stephen chuckled. "I think Dormammu's spell is officially broken."

Clea gave Stephen a look. "You think?"

Her mother finally let go, and it was all Clea could do not to yell in frustration. This was the woman who had given her away to a stranger, who had claimed to love her just hours before but had only longed for power. Oh, and she had tried to kill her, too. Clea wasn't about to forget that part. She fixed her mother with a critical glare.

Her mother deflated. "Clea... Did I hurt you? What did I do? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I don't remember… Ever since I allowed that sorcerer to take you, I haven't been able to remember anything…"

"I went to Earth, mother."

"Earth…" Her mother's eyes misted. "Yes, I remember Earth…"

"Dormammu is gone now."

Her mother's spirit changed in an instant from compassion to righteous anger. "My treacherous brother. On the day of your birth, my brother killed my husband and trapped us both. You and I are the rightful rulers of this place. And it was once beautiful, Clea. So beautiful. But Dormammu spent thousands of years twisting it into a dimension that reflects the blackness of his soul."

Stephen took Clea's hand. "I know you're angry with your mother…" he began.

Clea met his eyes. "You have no idea."

"But I think it's time for forgiveness, Clea. If you don't find mercy now, you will never be able to move forward."

Her mother smiled as tears fell from her eyes. "And we have so much to look forward to, Clea. We can be together…"

"No." Clea shook her head. "No, I'm not staying. Earth is my home. It always will be."

Her mother pursed her lips and nodded. Clea thought it was such a human reaction. She could feel the weight of millennia pressing on her mother. The Dark Dimension and her mother: timeless entities Clea would never fully understand.

"I let you go for a reason, Clea. You had to escape this place before the darkness consumed you. It hurt me more than you will ever know, but I made the right choice. You were saved."

"I never got a chance to make a choice."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But you were just a child, an innocent child."

Clea looked away. "I don't remember much about you. I don't even know your name."

"Umar." Her mother wiped a tear away. "My name is Umar."

"They changed my name on Earth. They called me Joanna."

Her mother smiled through her tears. "Do you want me to call you Joanna? I would be happy to."

Clea gazed at her mother, as if for the first time. Inside her chest, the Dark Gem pulsed with longing. "No. My name is Clea. I grew up an orphan, without a mother, or a family..." She swallowed hard. "All I wanted was a home."

Umar touched Clea's face. "You have one now. Two homes. This dimension will always be here. I will bring it back to life for both of us. I will keep it safe. And if you ever want to come back, just think of me and form a gateway. I promise I will be here for you whenever you need to find me."

Clea wasn't sure about her mother, but she could feel the truth of her words. She nodded and stepped closer to Stephen.

"Speaking of keeping this place safe," Stephen said. "Clea opened a gateway and threw a book of black magic called the Darkhold inside. You chased after it. It needs to be guarded on Earth so it doesn't taint this dimension. I'd like it back, please."

Umar nodded. "I want nothing more to do with the Darkness. Can you find this book?"

Stephen nodded. "I'm sure I can. It has a specific energy."

"Then please do so. I only ask that you leave the rest of this dimension unmolested." Umar turned to Clea. "I love you, my daughter, with an everlasting love. And as a testament to you, I will fill this place it. Wait and see."

Clea didn't trust her voice.

Umar reached out with tentative fingers to graze Clea's face. "It will take time for us, I know. But all we have is time."

Umar rested her gaze on Stephen. "Take care of my daughter."

He smiled. "I will, but I need you to take care of this dimension. Guard it against the Darkness."

"I will set it free," Umar said. "And this time, Earth will remain safe. I swear it."

-0-0-0-

 **A/N: This isn't the end. Not yet. More to come…**


	32. Chapter 31

-0-0-0-

Night fell in a hush over the Sanctum Sanctorum. Stephen meditated under the Seal of Vishanti as moonlight glided through the glass. The only other light illuminating the room was a dim glow from the Eye of Agamotto around Stephen's neck. He kept his eyes closed, noting Wong's presence in the training room downstairs. Clea, he noted, was still reading the Darkhold inside his bedroom. Stephen focused in on her thoughts, reached out telepathically to her, and _nudged_.

 _"Almost done,"_ Clea communicated the thought to Stephen. Her telepathy grew stronger every day. " _Do you want me to come up when I'm finished?"_

 _"Please."_

Stephen didn't dare intrude upon Clea while she read the Darkhold. The temptation to glance over her shoulder, just to peek at what she read, was too great. Whenever Clea wanted to brush up on her knowledge of dark magic, she and Stephen opened the Darkhold's case in unison before bringing the book into the safe haven of his room.

Besides continuing to learn spells, Clea sparred with Stephen regularly. It was the one area in which Stephen could still best her. Clea had become battle-hardened thanks to fighting both Dormammu and Umar, but she was not quite at Stephen's level of expertise. During their sparring matches, they always fought with Eldritch magic. Sometimes Clea threw in a black spell just to keep him on his toes, though Clea was always careful not to conjure anything deadly.

Clea had been training for only a few months, but she was almost a master sorcerer now. The exponential growth of her abilities was astounding. Stephen was almost envious of the ease at which both dark and Eldritch magic flowed through her, but Clea had paid a heavy price. He could see it in the solemnness of her gaze, the bone-straight stiffness in her gait. All of her former innocence had vanished, replaced by a world-wary mindset birthed from the pain of experience.

Every so often, Clea would travel back to the Dark Dimension. Stephen accompanied her every time, at first because she had asked for his presence and then because he had wanted to go. The first time Clea had journeyed back to visit her mother, she had gripped Stephen's hand, afraid to let go. It was only after several trips that Clea had felt comfortable enough to greet her mother without Stephen being next to her, allowing him to study the changes Umar was making. The Dark Dimension was becoming a place of harmony and rich, colorful beauty. Umar assured them there was still much to do, and she was always alert for any sign of trespassing darkness. But Dormammu had stayed away.

Stephen felt someone approach from behind, though there was no sound of footsteps. Stephen smiled and opened his eyes.

"Wong," Stephen said. "How are things in London?"

"Not bad." Wong edged closer to the where Stephen knelt below the Seal. "You know, one of these days it would be nice if you let me sneak up on you for a change."

"I'll find an old MP3 player the next time you come."

"You can borrow mine."

Stephen grinned. "I'll pass."

Stephen stood to his feet and took a long look at his mentor. The last of Wong's bruises were now a sallow color, almost blending into his skin. His cuts were now scars, and he walked with only a minor limp.

"Your body is almost healed," Stephen said. "How are your mystic abilities coming along?"

"I'm still having trouble holding a spell for longer than a few seconds."

Wong sounded heartbroken. Stephen could only imagine what his friend was going through. Every day Wong traveled from Sanctum to Sanctum, absorbing the magic within to recharge his abilities, so to speak. Wong's father, Master Hamir, was also helping to retrain his son on the days when Stephen couldn't. Both Hamir and Stephen believed Wong was making excellent progress, but in Wong's mind, the magic couldn't return fast enough.

"Give it time," Stephen said. "You're a more patient learner than I ever was."

Wong snorted. "That's not hard."

"Are you heading back to the Kamar-Taj?"

"Just stopped by to see how you and Joanna were doing."

"Clea," Stephen corrected.

"Right. Clea. Where is she?"

 _Oh, just inside my bedroom reading the most dangerous book of black magic ever created._ Stephen stroked his chin. "You know, I'm not sure where she is. Maybe she's taking a nap?"

Wong shook his head. "You're a terrible liar, Stephen. I can feel dark magic surrounding her, even in my weakened state. I hope you know what you're doing. If chaotic magic ever overtakes her…"

"I've got it under control."

Stephen followed Wong down the stairs, making mental notes on where Wong still limped so Stephen could give him new exercises to strengthen his muscles the next time they met. When Stephen reached the second floor, he remained there and watched as Wong continued down to the gateway. His friend surprised him by turning to give Stephen a wave before traveling through the portal back into the Kamar-Taj.

 _"Clea…"_

 _"Finishing up Stephen."_

Stephen strolled down the corridor to his bedroom, but stayed outside the threshold as Clea finished whatever section of the Darkhold she was reading. She closed the book softly and smiled over at him.

He nodded to the Darkhold. "Anything interesting?"

"Just a good recipe for chocolate soufflé."

Stephen laughed, and stepped aside as Clea came through the magic threshold to where he waited. The Darkhold was held reverently but firmly in her hands.

"I think it's time to put the Darkhold back for good," Stephen said.

Clea nodded. "Did you ever try to read it?"

"No. I was warned away from it by Wong, and with my photographic memory, let's just say it's a good thing common sense outweighed my curiosity."

Stephen and Clea traipsed to the Chamber of Relics. Somewhere on the third floor, the Cloak of Levitation found them. She floated onto Stephen's neck, careful to keep her hem away from the book in Clea's hand.

Stephen opened the Darkhold's invisible case as Clea placed the book inside. With a gentle mystic pull from his hands, Stephen opened the Eye. Clea concentrated and the Dark Gem pulsed from her collarbone. She created a spell locking the Darkhold with layers of black magic. Stephen sealed the case with the Eye as their dimension closed around the book.

"I'm glad it takes two of us to open the case," Stephen said.

"It was a good idea, using a combination of time, light, and dark magic to seal it." Clea gazed forlornly at the Darkhold. "Maybe one day I can pick it back up again. It seems like every time I read it, I learn something deeper about where I come from, the power I have inside."

Stephen arched an eyebrow.

She sighed. "Or not."

"I know the Darkhold doesn't hurt you, but I think it needs to remain where it is."

Clea smiled. "So you're saying I need to trust my teacher, yes?"

"I'm not sure you need a teacher anymore." Stephen tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. "You can use both sides of magic completely now."

Clea clasped her hand in his. He gazed down at her. She was almost his equal now, and he found himself wanting to confide in her more and more often. Every now and then he would casually bring up his journal entries of her, but to Clea's credit she never wanted to read any of them. Even that night when Stephen had glimpsed inside the Mirror of Morgan le Fay remained a mystery to Clea, and one where she was happy not to know the ending.

"Are you hungry?" Stephen asked.

Clea blinked. "Uh… sure, but I don't think there's a lot of food down in the kitchen at the moment. Wong has one hell of an appetite."

"No, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner."

"Like, outside of the Sanctum?"

Stephen nodded.

"Really?"

He could feel her excitement. It made him happy. He nodded again.

"But it's raining…"

He smiled. "Just like the day we first met."

Her hand remained in his. His thumb stroked her palm, and he felt her shudder, which only made his smile widen.

"I'd like to go, but…" Clea gave the Cloak of Levitation a skeptical look. "How is she going to fit in? I doubt she's going to want to be left behind."

The cloak snapped her collar. Stephen felt the cloak wind her hem tight around his body. She morphed from a brilliant red into the guise of a dark trench coat. The transformation made Clea smile.

Stephen stepped closer to Clea. His fingertips caressed her face. Clea closed her eyes, and Stephen lightly touched her mind with his own. He opened his aura to her, enveloping her soul in all the emotions he'd been holding back from feeling for so long. She trembled as he held her against him.

Stephen bent down and kissed her. When his lips brushed against hers. Clea's defenses dissolved. She relaxed against him. He savored the feel of her soft lips against his and inhaled the scent of her. She smelled like the autumn twilight: brisk and alive.

It hurt to break away from her, but he had to. He wasn't about to start this relationship with anything less than respect and chivalry. "Ready?" he asked.

Clea's flush face nodded.

They walked down the steps and into the rainy New York night.

Stephen didn't let go of her hand.


	33. Chapter 32

Mordo observed Stephen and That Woman leave the Sanctum, their bodies practically entwined, their laughter reverberating through the night. The Darkness burned within him as he watched. He closed his eyes, desperate to still the hunger inside.

 _Not yet,_ He told the Darkness. _It is too soon yet. They would destroy Us if we tried to kill them._

Mordo recognized the Cloak of Levitation, even through its disguise. The cloak, now a black trench coat, lifted its hem toward Mordo. For the briefest of moments, Mordo was afraid Stephen might pull himself away from That Woman and listen to the cloak's silent warning, but he didn't. Stephen kept walking, unaware of anything but That Woman beside him.

Mordo had been inside the Dark Dimension for so long that time had lost all meaning. All of his thoughts had been twisted into incoherent jumbles and broken strands teetering between vengeance and madness. He had known agony beyond anything his physical body could have endured. He had died, he was sure of it, until the blast hit him.

The blast had been a potent mixture of time and energy inside the dark that had ripped his molecules to bits. It had taken time for Mordo to find the scattered pieces of his physical body. His body… his weak, frail human body. For so long, he had only concentrated on the physical aspects of humanity, of magic. No longer. The Darkness had taught him that. It had taught him so many things.

But there were still more lessons to learn. So much more…

He'd somehow woken up in the middle of New Jersey, naked but not alone. Never alone, not anymore. The Darkness was always with him.

Mordo had walked for a long time, killing mortals for food and clothing. Sometimes he killed men and women for no reason at all. Taking a human soul always satiated the Darkness inside, and he grew to love those brief moments of reprieve. But the Darkness was never satisfied. It was a gnawing hunger inside of him, aching for more.

After traveling for weeks, he had finally found a ferry to take him into Manhattan, closer to his goal. He hadn't dared conjure a gateway anywhere near the Sanctum. Stephen might have felt the Darkness, and tried to destroy Them. Mordo couldn't have that.

Mordo remained in his hiding place until Stephen and That Woman turned a corner and were out of sight. Then Mordo took a step and almost tripped on the dead body at his feet. He frowned. This was the vagrant that had struck up a conversation with him on North End Avenue. The man hadn't stopped the unending stream of words as he'd followed Mordo. The man's babbling phrases became an incessant buzzing in Mordo's ears until he'd been able to stand it no longer. He'd sucked the man's soul right out of his body and had dragged the corpse to this spot. He'd needed new clothes. No one had seemed to care, or maybe they were afraid to say anything to him. The Darkness usually had that effect on mortals.

The Sanctum Sanctorum was silent when Mordo entered. All the caretakers of Sanctums kept their doors unlocked to provide shelter for anyone who needed it. It made him almost giddy to think he was the one seeking its solace tonight. A bubble of laughter formed in his chest. He let it explode outward, let it echo up to the rotunda in a deep baritone of inner amusement.

He shook his head to clear it. He had to reach his goal. No time to stop.

 _Time._ He laughed again.

He walked deeper inside the foyer. A small part of him hoped entering this place might numb the Darkness inside, but no. It only grew stronger. He'd come here for a reason, and the Darkness demanded his obedience.

Mordo crept up the stairwell. He knew Stephen would feel his presence when he returned. How could he not? The Darkness left behind a trail of chaos. It licked at Mordo's mind, numbed his spirit when he killed for its hunger. Its energy soaked up the light around him. He could only hope it would be satisfied with the sacrifice he was about to give.

He passed the second floor. He wasn't about to disturb the spells around Stephen's bedroom, even if the books and relics within would make a worthy offering. It was too risky.

Mordo ascended to the third floor unmolested. Like a magnet, the Darkness pulled him toward his goal, showed him where he needed to go. He was a slave to its purpose.

The case that held the Darkhold called to him like a lover, caressing his mind, whispering to set it free. He was drawn to its power. As he stood before the book, he felt the same blessed relief that came from gathering souls, but then the hunger returned. It always returned. Mordo closed his eyes and focused.

The Darkhold was locked away by several spells, all of them centered around light, time, and the Darkness. No human hands could remove this book. But then, Mordo was no longer fully human. The Darkness had taught him that. It had taught him so many things.

But there were more lessons to learn. So much more…

Now, however, it was time for the sacrifice.

With a cry of pain, Mordo blew himself apart. His body broke down into billions of particles, each one sentient and aware of the Darkness within. Every particle moved with singular purpose, drawing itself into the vastness of the spells surrounding the Darkhold. It wove past the light, through time, and into the final lock of spawned from black magic. He turned the lock, and the case disappeared.

The Darkhold stood before the molecules that were Mordo. He begged the Darkness for a physical body once more, just once more, so he could offer himself up as a living sacrifice. One last offering to the Darkness, one more chance to give to the hunger inside of him.

The Darkness granted his request.

Mordo stood, a man once more, with the Darkhold in his hands.

He opened the book.

And laughed.

So many lessons to learn…

… and all the time in the world to learn them.


	34. Epilogue- After

**A/N- Just an FYI: I take no responsibility for the unoriginal name of Stephen Strange and Clea's son. Unfortunately, it's comic canon.**

 **-0-0-0-**

 **AFTER**

Clea stood at the doorway of the first-floor library of the Sanctum and smiled as the Cloak of Levitation dangled over Stephen, Junior's sweet face. Her son squealed in delight, trying to catch the cloak in his chubby hands. The cloak got close enough for his fingers to graze her fabric just before she flew back out of reach. It was four year-old Stephen's favorite game

The cloak dove back down again. The movement of the cloak passing in front of the roaring fire created the illusion of a brilliant dance between the flames and the darkness. When Stephen finally caught the cloak's hem, he grinned and held it inside a tight fist. The cloak hovered in mid-air for only a second before collapsing her full length down on top of Stephen. Clea could hear his laughter from under the fabric.

Her husband wasn't with them tonight. She'd overheard Wong and Stephen earlier, speaking in soft tones just out of earshot. They were talking about Mordo. The dark sorcerer had somehow become a disciple of the Darkness and was rising in power. Even Clea's mother had felt his rise from inside the Dark Dimension and had warned her to keep her son away for the time being.

While a part of Clea wanted to help fight against these new dimensional threats, another part was grateful to be done with fighting. Every time chaotic magic came close to the Sanctum, the Dark Gem inside her felt its power. She never felt at peace when dark magic was so close, and had learned through the years it was best to avoid the chaos at any cost.

So Stephen had left her and his son with a warm embrace, and had asked the Cloak of Levitation to stay and protect them. He needn't have bothered. While the cloak may have appeared crushed to be left behind, Clea knew the truth. The cloak adored children. She was always near their son, unless she happened to be perched on Stephen's neck. Clea could make a mint hiring the Cloak of Levitation out as a babysitter for superheroes.

Clea watched the cloak and her son play for a bit longer before heading down the hallway. She wanted to check the Cauldron of the Cosmos for Wong and Stephen's location before putting her son to bed. She'd just passed the study when a brilliant flash of golden Eldritch light caught her attention down a secondary corridor.

She frowned. Had Stephen returned already?

She crept cautiously back toward the source of the flash. The narrow corridor now stood devoid of Eldritch magic, and an object now appeared in the center of the corridor blocking the way. The object looked like a two-way mirror erected in the middle of the hallway. A dark figure stood inside its center, waiting, though Clea had no idea who it could be.

Clea's first thought was of Stephen, Jr. If this were a trick by Mordo, she would get her son to safety and then kill to defend him. She touched her sling ring and silently gathered energy from all around her, watching this potential threat.

The figure formed a continuous line of Eldritch light. The cursive words appeared with a flourish, but they were backward. The figure then twisted his wrists so Clea could read them.

" _I just want to talk_."

She relaxed but only slightly. Still skeptical, Clea strolled closer. When she was halfway down the hallway she recognized Stephen on the other side. But this wasn't her husband who had just left a few hours ago. This man was younger, more curious.

Clea suddenly realized what night this was. She was staring into the Mirror of Morgan le Fay. She smiled at the Stephen of her past and held up her sling ring.

The Stephen before her gave her a cocky grin when he saw the sling ring. He mouthed words on his side of the mirror Clea couldn't hear.

With the expertise born from years of practice, Clea formed her own words of Eldritch magic. " _You think you know everything,"_ she wrote. She paused, and considered how best to innocently explain that dark magic came far more natural to her. She wrote, " _It took me longer to memorize the spells though._ "

His grin widened. His gaze drifted down to the Dark Gem embedded in her skin, and his smile dissolved. His brow furrowed.

Clea wished she could find the words to explain how the Dark Gem had gotten there, how he shouldn't worry about her or the darkness within. There was so much she wanted to tell him. _You wanted me to read your journal. I never did, but you told me about tonight. I know where in time you are, and I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did to save me, how much I love you…_

But Stephen's hands were already up, about to create more Eldritch words from his side of the mirror.

"Mommy! Mommy! Guess what?"

Her son's cries of delight reached Clea before his small body did. She didn't even have time to turn around before Stephen, Jr. had thrown his arms around her leg.

"Guess what Lee-vee did?" he said.

 _Lee-vee_ was his name for the Cloak of Levitation. Before Clea could get a word in, her son glanced up and noticed his father in the mirror.

The little boy pointed excitedly. "That's Daddy! He's here!"

"No, sweetie. That's not really Daddy. It's just a magic mirror letting me talk to him."

Stephen, Jr. looked crushed. Clea bent down to ruffle his hair.

"Stephen, could you go practice your spells with Lee-vee? I need to talk to daddy for a minute, okay?"

Stephen nodded and raced back down the hallway.

Clea sighed and stood upright. She could only imagine the look on Stephen, the old Stephen's, face. Sure enough, he looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

She gazed at this Stephen, the one who had only just met her. Here in front of her was the face of the man she'd grown to love and had bound herself to all those years ago. Five years… had it been that long? It felt like an eternity, but one of happy contentment. Yes, they had battled with the usual stresses that accompany marriage and having children, but the love between them proved unbreakable. Clea was spending her life with her soul mate, her teacher and her friend. She wouldn't trade any day of the last five years for the world. And she almost had.

Stephen's face was a mask of distress. Clea could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind. She tried not to take it personally. What man wouldn't be upset to suddenly learn he was going to have a child with a woman he'd just met? If she had been the one to see this future, she would've run away from the Sanctum in fearful rebellion.

Clea could sense the mirror's dark magic fading in front of her. Stephen must have sensed it, too. His eyes widened in panic. She could tell there was so much more he wanted to say to her. But there was no time.

What could she possibly write to this younger version of the man she loved? They had only known one another for twenty-four hours in his timeline. What words would convey every choice he would have to make regarding her training, their relationship, her call to the Darkness, and her very life?

Clea formed the best words she could think of, using Eldritch magic to create her spell. She wrote: _Don't give up on me._

And just like that, his image faded. The mirror blocking the hallway dissolved.

She stood in the empty corridor for a long time. She toyed with the idea of telling Stephen what had happened tonight but decided against it. Stephen and Wong would have their own stories about tonight, and Clea owed it to them, and to her son, to let the past stay in the past.

Clea smiled at the memories and turned to go find her son. Stephen, Jr. was a natural at the mystic arts. She and Stephen had so much still to teach him. But they had time. The past was behind her. But her future was just beginning.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N-** _ **MANY, many thanks**_ **to everyone who was kind enough to read and follow "Strange Beginnings," and a special thank you to everyone who left feedback for this story. Your faithful clicks kept me plugging away and were my source of inspiration. Now that we've officially reached "The End," I wanted to officially thank everyone. You guys meant the world to me.**

 **I love the research phase of storytelling, and I** _ **really**_ **enjoyed researching Doctor Strange. I had to tweak Clea's original comic book storyline quite a bit for "Strange Beginnings," but ultimately I wanted it to be HER story, not Stephen's. The Doctor Strange comics are fascinating, and if you have the time, you should check them out for yourself. There's a ton of, shall we say,** _ **interesting**_ **features and plotlines (especially the "What If…" comic) that never made it into my story.**

 **Lastly, I know there will be some readers who may be disappointed with how I left things with Mordo, and perhaps even with Stephen and Clea. In regards to Mordo, I had to find a way to harmonize both the comic book arc and the MCU arc for his story. I know I left the door wide open for a sequel thanks to Mordo's special brand of crazy, but I'm not planning to write one for now.** **As for Stephen and Clea, well… I believe all stories should end with loose ends - with uncertainty and questions, with hardships and hope - just like real life. Besides, I think Stephen and Clea are ready to take a break and just enjoy each other and their son.**

 **Again, THANK YOU again for reading to the end, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
